


Honey Cakes

by authoresskika



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Family, Friendship, Gen, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-03 08:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoresskika/pseuds/authoresskika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU; "The babies study one another. Briar’s fist thumps the blanket again. Peeta tries to imitate the motion with his own fist. Their identical wide blue eyes study one another, being close enough to actually make out the features of each other’s faces. They won’t know the exact words and phrases for several more years, but it hardly matters: Briar and Peeta are suddenly able to communicate. 'You aren’t alone,' her gaze tells him. 'We have each other; always have, always will.'" Fraternal twins Briar and Peeta Mellark grow up and take on the world of District Twelve, learning about love, fear, right, and very, very wrong along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baby and Toddlerhood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sohypothetically](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohypothetically/gifts).



> This WIP is based upon the very first THG fic I wrote entitled 'Destroyed', part of which involved Peeta growing up with a twin sister. 'Destroyed' is no longer available for various reasons, but after I finished that project, I had the impetus to write a prologue dedicated entirely to the childhood of Peeta and his AU sister.
> 
> As is often the case with fics including Mrs. Mellark, some references to corporal punishment verging on child abuse exist within. Those with trigger issues for these topics may wish to proceed with caution.
> 
> Thanks for happening across this, and enjoy.

Even as infants, the twins know that something isn’t right.  
  
Peeta is the fussy one, constantly fretting and crying even when his diaper is dry and his tiny belly is full. As such, he’s held nearly every second of the first few weeks of his life, but never in the arms he desires. After a long and difficult pregnancy, and a labor and delivery that nearly killed her, Armarna Mellark has turned cold and distant. Baby blues, her children will hear someone call it much later on. But as an infant Peeta can only process it as one thing: rejection. So he cries.  
  
Briar is far more self-sufficent from the get go. She suckles on her hands and fingers as a way to self soothe, because unlike her brother, she sometimes goes for hours without being held. She stares intently up at the blurry shapes on the walls and ceiling and tries to wrap her brain around what they are and what they mean. She focuses on anything but her brother’s wails. Their father’s hushed voice will whisper to Peeta for hours in an attempt to calm him until at last he gives up, and holds his youngest son tight against his chest and cries with him. Ezekiel Mellark doesn’t understand what’s happened to his wife and he misses her as much as the babies do.  
  
Ezekiel has a business to run. The help he hired right after Armarna entered her post-partum daze is too expensive to keep and still make ends meet, so eventually he goes back to running the Mellark Bakery full time. Armarna has just enough left in her to nurse her babies a few times a day, but otherwise the twins spend long hours alone in their bassinet. Peeta fusses. Briar sucks on her tiny fingers.  
  
One not so special day while their mother naps with a pillow tucked around her ears, Briar does something extraordinary. They’re separated by a few inches in the bassinet and Peeta begins to wail. Ezekiel is showing the older boys, Bannock and Rye, how to sift flour in the kitchens below, and cannot hear what’s going on upstairs. Peeta’s wails become more needy, more insistent that someone comfort him, but they go unanswered. Finally his twin sister can’t take hearing her brother in so much agony and manages to figure out how to maneuver herself into a roll that eliminates the small space by which they had been separated. She wedges her pudgy arms beneath her to prop herself up a few inches and looks into her brother’s eyes. It takes a moment for Peeta to stop wailing and notice her; when he does, he goes quiet. She shifts back down onto her belly and thumps her fist on the blanket near his ear to ensure she has his attention.  
  
The babies study one another. Briar’s fist thumps the blanket again. Peeta tries to imitate the motion with his own fist. Their identical wide blue eyes study one another, being close enough to actually make out the features of each other’s faces. They won’t know the exact words and phrases for several more years, but it hardly matters: Briar and Peeta are suddenly able to communicate.  
  
 _You aren’t alone_ , her gaze tells him. _We have each other; always have, always will._  
  
From then on, Peeta’s fussy fits are reserved for when he has a physical need. The bond he shares with his sister is enough to keep him calm otherwise.

* * *

Some of their milestones are the same. Their father rubs a little dab of white liquor on their aching gums when their first teeth cut through within a few days of one another. Bannock and Rye surround them with blankets and pillows from their bed and prop them up to sitting. They fall over and over, the scratchy wool bracing their tumbles, and their brothers keep propping them back up. It’s nearly the exact same minute when they each figure out how to brace themselves on their bottoms properly to sit upright.  
  
Other milestones come separately. Briar learns to walk first, and chases after her still crawling brother on her chubby, wobbly legs to coax him to do the same. She silently shows him how to boost himself up on the corner of tables and chairs and use the walls for balance as his legs get used to carrying his weight. She wordlessly communicates with him to get back up when he falls on his backside from trying to walk too far too fast.  
  
Several months later Peeta speaks his first word. Their father thinks he’s said either “air” or “ow” but his twin knows he’s saying her name. She makes funny faces when she tries to emulate him, but she doesn’t quite understand how to move her tongue in her mouth to form anything more coherent than baby babbling. He’ll chant his newly acquired words at her over and over (“dada”, “no”, “up”) to encourage her but she usually just stares at him in wonder. Eventually the day comes when she excitedly screeches out “Eet!”, and it surprises everyone but her brother. Peeta knows she means him.  
  
Their mother looks after them in puzzlement sometimes and tries to remind herself she should be happy to be watching them develop into proper human beings. But most of time the funk in her brain wins out, and she merely scowls before going back to folding laundry or kneading bread dough. It’s around this time she begins to cuff Bannock and Rye for the simple mistakes small children make, like spilling their milk or speaking with their mouths full. Ezekiel pretends not to notice, but slips the older boys little bits of sugar cookie dough when their mother isn’t looking to make up for it.

It works alright for the older boys. At least at first.

* * *

They call their mother ‘Mama’ until they are nearly four. Armarna accepts the term and responds to it but without any of the vigor she had for her older sons. The twins have long since learned not to make grabby hands at Mama and ask to be picked up unless Papa is also around. They spend their days playing made up games only they know the rules to and try to keep out of Mama’s way when she’s in a bad mood.  
  
The day comes when they don’t pay think enough about Mama’s mood. Peeta is chasing Briar around the kitchens and Briar ducks behinds their mother’s calves in an attempt to evade him. Thinking he’s finally outsmarted his sister, Peeta shoves her gently and Briar’s head lands in the crook of their mother’s knee. Armarna spills far too much sugar into the mix she’s been making, ruining the entire batch and wasting several handfuls of the ingredient. Peeta doesn’t know what to make of their mother’s hand slamming against his sister’s cheek, nor her high pitched scream in Briar’s direction; he just knows he should go after Briar when she flees to their tiny bedroom.  
  
He finds her curled up in a little ball in the corner. She’s being quiet about it but Peeta knows she’s crying. He crouches in front of her and pokes her in the shoulder.  
  
“Lemme see,” he says, trying to get a look at her face. She shakes her head and tries to shrink down smaller on herself.  
  
“Lemme see!” he says again with urgency, and pokes her until she puts her hands down at her sides. He sees a telltale red mark spreading across her cheek. It seems to be streaked with the tears that are running down her face.  
  
“Huwts,” Briar says to him simply, using her fist to wipe away her tears.  
  
Peeta nods solemnly and strokes his sister’s cheek with his hand gently. She flinches at first until her brother’s soothing touch takes most of the sting on her cheek away.  
  
“I’m sowwy I pushed you,” he tells her. She shrugs.  
  
“S’okay,” she replies.  
  
“Mama shoulda hit me, ‘stead,” he says, hanging his head so his hair falls in his eyes.  
  
“Nuh uh, Peet. You didn’ ‘sewve it,” she says seriously.  
  
He strokes her cheek again and knits his eyebrows together. He is far too young to really understand the emotion of anger, but he knows he feels something towards his mother he’s not supposed to. He’s pretty sure Mamas shouldn’t hit their babies like that, especially since when what they’ve done is an accident.  
  
“Mama won’t huwt…huwt…” he says, struggling with his R’s like he always does. He swallows hard and tries again. “Won’t hurt you ‘gain. Pw—promise.”  
  
Briar scoots forward and throws her arms around her twin before kissing his cheek. Bannock and Rye tell him that little girls have cooties but Peeta is pretty sure that part of being a twin means that Briar’s cooties can’t get him like other girl’s cooties might. He scoots forward on on his knees and sits next to her against the wall, where they calmly think of other games to play that don’t involve going anywhere near their mother.  
  
They’ve heard the older boys call Armarna ‘Mother’ for years now. Their minds decide together that they need to remember to pronounce their R’s better so they can use the term as well. After what she’s done she doesn’t seem much like a ‘Mama’ anymore.  
  
A few hours later, Ezekiel comes to find them to bring them into the kitchen for dinner. He can’t ignore the angry red mark on Briar’s cheek and worries his bottom lip when it dawns on him that if anything, his wife is worse off now than she was three years ago. He pulls both of his youngest children against his chest, being unable to do anything more than feel completely powerless, and kisses the very top of their blonde heads before scooting them along to dinner.  
  
Afterwards, as the older boys wash the dishes and Armarna excuses herself early to bed, Ezekiel plucks a small cake no bigger than his palm out of the display case and secretively passes it off to his only daughter with firm instructions that she share it with her twin and not tell their mother about it. They take turns nibbling off the corners of the confection, and dip their pinky fingers into the vanilla honey frosting on top before wrapping it carefully in parchment and tucking it between their pillows for the night (for “sweet dreams”, their father tells them). It’s almost entirely stale by the time they finish it three days later but they don’t care much. It’s their very favorite of their father’s creations; although they don’t understand it yet, it’s also the only way their father knows to communicate how much he really loves them.


	2. Age Five

Mother has wrapped the hair on Briar’s head into a tight bun, and tied it with a shaggy bit of ribbon. The hairs are pulled so taut that it makes the little girl’s eyes hurt—but she doesn’t whine about it; Mother doesn’t stand for whining children. Peeta combs his unruly tresses back, but they don’t stay neat for long, and Mother scolds him for it. Briar’s worried her hand might fly at any moment towards her twin’s cheek, because neither them nor their brothers have been spanked in weeks. Mother’s voice raises often, but she doesn’t strike when she’s frustrated. She just saunters into another room, and mumbles to herself until she’s calm enough to face her children again.  
  
In a way, that frightens all of them more than the spanking and cuffing does.  
  
Their father woke up extra early to get a head start on the baking for the day. By the time all the Mellark children are fed and clothed for the day, Ezekiel has changed his clothes to walk them all to school. Bannock and Rye complain loudly that none of their friend’s fathers walk them to school anymore but Ezekiel doesn’t listen: it’s Briar and Peeta’s very first day.  
  
Armarna minds the shop front as Ezekiel takes either of his youngest children’s small hands in his own and leads them down the road to school. Bannock and Rye run ahead to put as much distance between themselves and their annoying younger siblings as possible. The twins toddle alongside their father, butterflies flitting about in their stomaches as they get closer and closer to school.  
  
“I don’t wan’ go to school,” Peeta finally complains when he’s sure they’re far out of their mother’s earshot. “Why do I gotta? I’m gonna own a bakery like you…I don’t need to learn nothing else!”  
  
“If Peeta doesn’t go, I’m not going neither!” Briar exclaims.  
  
Their father shakes their heads. “You’ll both like school just fine once you give it a chance. You have a very good teacher this year. Plus, Delly will be in your class with you…won’t that be fun to see her all day?”  
  
Peeta sticks his tongue out. Delly is _Briar’s_ friend, and since she’s not his twin, he can’t trust that her cooties won’t get him.  
  
“No more complaining about not wanting to go…we’re already her.” Ezekiel points to the drab building across the road from where they stand. The children drag their feet, but eventually saunter through the gate, and watch the other children play on the patchy grass knoll and rickety swing sets.  
  
“There’s Delly,” Briar says, her tune changing quite a bit. “I’m gonna go play…you comin’?”  
  
Peeta shakes his head, and clings to his father’s hand as his twin runs off to join her friend. Ezekiel crouches down to be eye level with his son, and tucks one of the little boy’s locks of hair behind his ear.  
  
“You’ll make plenty of friends of your own. And I bet you’ll like school so much that you won’t want to come home when your mother comes at 3 to pick you up,” his father tells him.  
  
“Why won’t you come at 3?” Peeta whines.  
  
“I have important work to do in the bakery, especially with you kids at school and not there to help me. I’ll be very busy, Peeta.”  
  
“I don’t want Mother to pick us up, I want you.”  
  
“You don’t always get what you want, Peeta,” Ezekiel says seriously to his son. As if on cue his gaze flits upwards and he sees her. Her long blonde hair is cinched in a simple knot at the back of her head but little wisps have escaped the knot here and there and perfectly frame her face. A sling is strung around her shoulder, and a tiny blonde head peeks out from a gap. He briefly remembers that she’d had a second baby just over a year ago. She doesn’t notice him as she kneels down to look eye level with her older daughter (who’s hair is plaited in two braids over either of her ears, and is wearing a red plaid dress). A moment later, the little girl scampers off towards the playground without even waving goodbye to her mother.  
  
Malisse Sny—no, Everdeen, he reminds himself—turns on her heel and heads back towards the Seam a second later. The sight of her still makes Ezekiel sigh after all these years.  
  
Peeta is whining for his attention again. He smoothes his son’s hair again, and turns him around to where the little girl with olive skin and coal grey eyes plays in a world all of her own. “Do you see that little girl, Peeta?”  
  
Peeta looks where his father is pointing, but sees more of a flash of red plaid than an actual little girl.  
  
“Yeah,” he says simply, wanting to launch back into another tirade about why he shouldn’t have to go to school.  
  
“I wanted to marry her mother. But she ran off with a coal miner.”  
  
Peeta furrows his eyebrows. This doesn’t make any sense—his father is the best man he knows (forgetting for a moment that at five years old, his father is more or less the _only_ man he knows). He’s gentle and kind, never cuffs him and his sister like their mother does, and bakes the most wonderful smelling confections in the world. “A coal miner?” he repeats back. “Why would she want a coal miner?”  
  
Ezekiel thinks back to the thousands of reasons why he knows Malisse chose Wyatt Everdeen over him, but knows his five year old will understand very few of them. “Because when he sings,” he explains, “even the birds stop to listen.”  
  
“Oh,” Peeta replies simply.  
  
“Remember, Peeta. You don’t always get what you want. But you do what you must all the same, and you learn to be happy with it. Now…go play with your sister and Delly until your teacher comes and has you line up. Make sure to sit up straight, and answer only when called upon. Have fun, and I’ll see you for dinner.”  
  
Ezekiel kisses the top of Peeta’s head before nudging him along towards his sister. The little boy plods away reluctantly without looking back at where his father stands; he knows that Ezekiel is already walking away.

* * *

Peeta supposes after a couple of hours that he likes his teacher alright. He’s not so sure about school, though. At the very least, he’s relieved he gets to sit next to Briar even though she seems insistent on talking to everyone around her almost constantly. “It won’t hurt you to make friends, Peeta, sheesh,” she whispers to him when he questions her on it. But Peeta isn’t really interested in making a lot of friends. He has Briar, and that’s really good enough for him.  
  
The little girl with the braids and the red plaid dress sits two chairs in front of him. He notices that she has a spray of freckles on the back of her neck near her hairline. It seems like a silly thing to notice as soon as he thinks of it, he supposes. But now that he notices them, he can’t help but play connect-the-dots in his head and it’s every ounce of willpower that he has to not take his pencil and try to draw on her skin. He thinks better of it, though; she’d probably kick him in the shins if he tried.  
  
The teacher announces that they will be leaving their classroom for music assembly in a few minutes. He and Briar share a look of reluctance: they like music fine, but neither of them can carry a tune in a bucket. All the same, they follow their teacher in a straight line through the narrow hallways and sit obediently when they’re gathered in a much larger classroom with the other first year classes. The teachers talk amongst themselves for a moment, and then turn back to their wide eyed students. One of the teachers, a man younger than Peeta and Briar’s father, clears his throat and smiles at the children.  
  
“We’ll begin the assembly now, children,” he says with a calm voice. “Now…does anyone know The Valley Song?”  
  
A hand shoots up in the air. It belongs to the girl in the red plaid dress.  
  
“Very good. Will you come up here, please?” the man asks the girl. She stands up and makes her way up to the front of the classroom. The teacher kneels down to her eye level, and speaks to her in a voice only the pair of them can hear. After a moment, he stands, picks the girl up by the underarms, and places her on a stool next to him. “Everyone, please be quiet and respectful. Katniss here is going to share the song with us. By the end of the school year, we expect everyone else to know the lyrics and melody of this song and be as brave as Katniss is to sing it in front of everyone.”  
  
Peeta’s heart drops. He supposes it wouldn’t be too terrible to stand up in front of a big classroom and speak, but he’d certainly never have the guts to sing in front of people. The look on Briar’s face reflects the exact same thing.  
  
Something pulls him out of his own head suddenly. He looks up as his mouth falls open slightly. The little girl called Katniss is singing and he knows immediately that her voice is the sweetest, most beautiful thing he’s ever heard in his life. She doesn’t falter over notes. Her voice is strong and doesn’t waver. She has something that almost resembles a smile etched on her face, but it isn’t quite a smile at all.  
  
He’s entranced. And his sister notices.  
  
Briar looks between the girl on the stool and her twin brother in curiosity. She’s never seen that look on Peeta’s face before. All the same, she understands something very quickly: this is the look of her brother’s face when he loves someone. The thought seems foreign in the head of a five year old. She believes all love to be the same, and that there can only be a finite amount of it in the world. Therefore, if Peeta suddenly loves this girl, surely that means that he doesn’t love her anymore…  
  
Suddenly, Briar is furious. Peeta is _her_ best friend. No one is supposed to take him away for years and years! It’s staggeringly unfair. She decides she should probably hate Katniss for stealing him away from her. Yes, she definitely hates Katniss for taking her brother’s heart away.  
  
Katniss’s voice quiets, and the teachers clap for her. Several of the students follow suit, Peeta being one of them. As the girl returns to her seat, Peeta turns to his sister and points towards the window.  
  
“Did you see, Briar? Did you see? The birds stopped singing when she began! _Even the birds stopped to listen_ ,” he whispers to her excitedly. Her heart falls even farther.  
  
In this moment, Peeta’s a goner. And Briar is certain she’s lost her brother forever.

* * *

After school that day, Briar tries to empty one of the bakery garbage bins all by herself. Peeta usually helps her, but she doesn’t want his help today. If he’s going to love someone else, she may as well get used to the fact that he’s gone sooner rather than later.  
  
The bins are too big for her. She drops one of them, and gets a slap from her mother for being clumsy and makes an even bigger mess than the one she was cleaning up. She puts everything back in the bin and starts to drag it outside when Peeta runs up next to her.  
  
“Why’d you do that? I always help you with the garbage. Does it hurt?” Peeta asks her when they’re safely out of Armarna’s earshot. Briar brushes him away, hiding her cheek from his examination. Since the day he’d promised he wouldn’t let their mother hurt her again, Peeta usually stood in for cuffs and spankings on his sister’s behalf, always claiming to be the one actually responsible for whatever mistake Briar had made. He hadn’t been quick enough this time. He felt terrible.  
  
“It’s fine. Go away,” she snaps at him, almost losing her grip on the bin again. Peeta doesn’t listen to her, and helps her down the three steps into the back area of the bakery. Briar glares at him. “I said go away, Peeta!” she seethes at him.  
  
“What did I do?” he asks, hurt and confusion registering in his voice.  
  
“You don’t want to be my brother anymore! So, fine! Don’t be! I don’t care!” she yells at him as she throws her hands up in the air before she storms back into the house and up to their bedroom. Peeta stands where she’s left him, utterly confused by his sister’s outburst. On what planet would she honestly believe he didn’t want her to be his sister anymore? That would never, ever happen. Not ever.  
  
Peeta finishes both of their chores as quickly as he can. His mother seems none the wiser that Briar is nowhere to be seen. When he’s all done, he sneaks into their bedroom as quietly as he can and finds her in her usual hiding spot: curled in a little ball, all but her hair hidden by the tiny wooden dresser they share.  
  
“Go away, Peeta,” she says bitterly.  
  
“No. It’s my room, too.”  
  
“Then don’t talk to me. I don’t like you anymore.”  
  
What she says stings, but he’s not entirely convinced she’s serious. He squats down to fish behind his mattress, and finds a spare bit of paper and some graphite he’s almost used down to a nub from his drawings. He takes a moment to smooth the wrinkles out of the paper before he lays it down on the floor to begin his drawing. The graphite stains his fingers a muddy grey that he knows will wash off easily enough. The lines seem to form the desired image naturally, though not perfectly from his clumsy, five year old hands. It’s only a few minutes before he’s pleased enough with his work to slide it across the floor towards where his sister sits.  
  
Briar sniffles a few times before her hand reaches out to pick up the paper. She tries her best to hate it, but it’s not possible. Peeta’s drawn her field of daisies dancing in the wind under a sunny sky, and it makes her smile immediately.  
  
“I’d color ‘em yellow for you if I could,” he says, his voice small. She nods.  
  
“I like ‘em just fine how they are,” she replies.  
  
“Why didja think I didn’t want to be your brother no more?”  
  
“‘Cause you love that girl in our class. The one that makes the birds stop to listen when she sings.”  
  
“Do not! I don’t even know her. She just sings pretty…”  
  
Briar gives him a _look_. He immediately knows he’s been caught in a lie.  
  
“Well…she does sing pretty…” he says sheepishly.  
  
Briar sighs. “So if you love her that means you don’t love me no more.”  
  
“But…you’re my sister. I don’t love you the way I…think Katniss is pretty.”  
  
“Whatcha mean?”  
  
Peeta fiddles with the laces on his shoes nervously. “It’s different. Don’t you know that? You’re supposed to be smarter than me, even Mam—Mother thinks so. You’re my sister and you’re my best friend. I could think a hundred girls are pretty, but you’ll always be my sister.”  
  
Briar purses her lips, but can’t deny that what her brother says makes perfect sense.  
  
“So…does that mean you don’t think girls have cooties no more?”  
  
Peeta’s cheeks color a bright shade of red. “I…I…” he stammers out.  
  
“Oh, I see. You just don’t think Katniss has cooties,” Briar says with an impish grin. The color on Peeta’s cheeks spreads all the way to the tips of his ears.  
  
After a minute his face turns serious again. “Did Mother hurt you much?”  
  
Briar had nearly forgotten about the sharp sting of her cheek. Now her hand rises subconsciously to trace where the slap had landed. “Just a little.”  
  
“Sorry I didn’t get there fast ‘nuff.”  
  
“S’not your fault. You shouldn’t take ‘em for me like you do sometime anyways. S’not fair to you.”  
  
Peeta shrugs his little shoulders. “Sorry you didn’t think I loved you no more.”  
  
“Me too. Thanks for the picture. It’s real pretty.”  
  
Peeta beams from the compliment. Briar gets on her hands and knees, and crawls over to him to kiss his cheek softly. She stands and stumbles over to the window a second late. It takes a minute or two, but eventually she’s able to cram the edges of the paper in between the wooden slats that separate the panes of glass from one another. She stands back and admires the drawing with a smile; the sunlight filtering through the thin paper brings the drawing even more to life, and if possible, makes her love it that much more.  
  
“You should draw a picture for Katniss. It’ll make her love you back, I’m sure of it,” she tells him with confidence. He shrugs at the suggestion.  
  
“Dunno. What if she doesn’t like it?”  
  
“Don’t be silly, Peet. You do good drawings.”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
They hear their father’s voice echo down the hallway, announcing dinner. It’s early, but now with school taking up most of their days, they’ll have to wake up even earlier than most children to help with the tasks their father relies on them to do. Peeta snatches Briar’s hand and tugs her into the hallway. Their father looks down on them, trying to ignore the fading red mark on his daughter’s cheek.  
  
“Was school as terrible as you both thought?” he asks after a moment, kneeling down so he can look them in the eyes.  
  
The twins share a significant look that their father has no way of decoding. When they turn back to him, they’re shaking their heads.  
  
“No, Daddy…school is just fine.”


	3. Age Seven

It's not the coughing that keeps Peeta awake that not-so-special night in October—that comes later. It's Briar's breathing that he finds odd as he lays on his lumpy mattress next to hers with his eyebrows knitted together. It’s noticeable because it’s usually so unnoticable—Briar always beats him in the race to fall asleep first. And usually she’s so quiet when she’s asleep that the only sounds that drift into their room are the snores of their brothers in the next one over.  
  
 It seems an exceptionally odd end to an exceptionally odd day—Briar hadn’t really been herself since the twins had woken up that morning. He’d practically had to force march her to school, and kept having to poke her side to keep her focused. Something about the color of her eyes seemed off, too. Their teacher hadn’t noticed, nor had anyone else in their family. Peeta wondered if this was one of those thing their father referred to as their “twin connection”; best he could figure, that just meant the pair of them knew the other better than anyone else did. That made sense, sort of.  
  
Her funny sounding breathing keeps him awake for maybe an hour before he can take it no more.  
  
"Briar…Briar? You 'wake?"  
  
His sister whines in response. He rolls over on his belly and pokes her on the shoulder. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I dunno. But I don't...I don't..."  
  
The coughing starts suddenly. It's mild at first, like the cough that accompanies a cold. The Mellark twins are no strangers to head colds—they don't even mind them much. Head colds mean no school, no having to help in the bakery, and a tiny nip of honey in their tea.   
  
(Peeta prefers not to take honey in his tea since he doesn't like how tea tastes when it's sweet…but his mother won't allow him to just swallow a spoonful of honey "like a barbarian".)   
  
But as Peeta listens, Briar's cough goes from mild to terrifying in only a few short seconds.   
  
"I feel like I...can't breathe right, Peet," Briar says when she can manage the words.  
  
The little boy scoots over so he and his sister are side by side, and gently pats her back in imitation of times he's seen his father do the same thing for one of his sick children. Briar begins to cough again. Even in the darkness, he can see the glint of tears forming in the corner of her eyes.   
  
"Don't cry, Briar. You know I'd breathe for you if I could," her brother tells her. She nods a silent but grateful response. When the fit ends, she puts her head on her twin's shoulder, and tries to breathe normally. All Peeta can hear are wheezing gasps. He immediately knows she isn't breathing properly at all.   
  
"We gotta try to sleep. Mother wants us in the bakery all day tomorrow,” he tells her gently.  
  
"You go back to sleep, Peet. I'll try not to keep you awake,” she says, clutching her pillow to her chest. When another fit begins, she coughs straight into the lumpy material instead of just her hand. It muffles the noise a little, but Peeta can still hear her.  
  
He tries to sleep all the same. But there is only so much of his sister’s pained, muffled cries he can take before he knows that sleep will never come to him if this keeps up.  
  
"I'm gonna go get Daddy," he tells her finally. She startles, not realizing he's been awake, and shakes her head violently from side to side and clutches at his arm.   
  
"No, don't! He'll wake up Mother, and she said...she said..."   
  
Another fits rocks Briar's body before she can complete her sentence. She'd mentioned to her mother that she didn't feel well as soon as she and Peeta had gotten home from school that afternoon. Armarna had accused her of being lazy and trying to get out of Saturday chores. She'd warned her daughter she'd have to be on Death's doorstep in order to stay in bed while the rest of her family slaved away in the hot kitchens. Briar wonders if her mother hadn't been just a touch ahead of herself with those words.   
  
"I won't wake her. Just Daddy, I promise."  
  
"No, I'll be fine. Just stay with me Peeta, please."  
  
The boy is conflicted. After a minute, he relents. "Always," he tells her as he sits up against the wall with her so he can pat her back when another fit begins. He can feel through the thin material of her nightgown that her skin is hot to the touch; feverishly hot at that. When she finally calms and leans back against the wall, he feels her forehead and wonders for a moment if the heat from her skin could actually burn his hand.  
  
“You’re real sick, Briar. You’re gonna need medicine.”  
  
“I’ll be fine, Peet.”   
  
The twin’s hands find one another in the dark and their fingers knot together. Peeta wants to be strong and unafraid but he can’t seem to quell the panic rising in his stomach. He suddenly pictures a world in his head where his sister does not exist, where the cough and the fever take her away forever but it’s too scary a place to even consider being real. Briar has to get better—she just has to.  
  
The next fit a few minutes later leaves her desperately gasping for breath. The boy gets on his knees to face her and quirks his head to the side. He positions his face so his nostrils press up against hers and he breathes sharply through them several times. Her gasping stops; his eyes have adjusted to the darkness now and he can see her face contorted in pain and fright.  
  
“Please let me go get Daddy. Please?” he whispers to her again. Her shoulders begin to quiver as she nods her consent.  
  
Peeta’s racing down the hall in a flash. He pays no attention to the floor boards squeaking under his feet until he reaches the door of his parent’s room. He turns the doorknob as quietly as he can, and begs the hinges not to creak and give him away.  
  
His father is sitting up with his legs over the side of the bed—perhaps it’s later than he realizes, and the Baker is on his way down to the kitchens to begin his work for the day. When he sees the form of his youngest son tiptoe through the door, he puts his finger to his lips and stands up to cross the room. He pulls on the child’s arm to lead him back into the hallway and closes the door tightly behind him.  
  
“Peeta? What’s wrong? You should be asleep, it’s very, very late,” Ezekiel whispers to him.  
  
“I c-can’t sleep, D-Daddy…” Peeta whimpers.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“‘C-cause I’m af-fraid Briar’s gonna d-die…” he stammers out as the tears he’s been holding back for hours finally spill down his cheeks.  
  
Ezekiel takes him by the hand and soldiers down the hallway. His other hand pauses on the doorknob that separates the hallway from the twin’s tiny bedroom—the coughing is so loud that he’s amazed he hadn’t heard it in his own room. He lets go of Peeta’s hand so he can take his son’s quaking little body in his arms.  
  
“It’s going to be okay, my boy. We’ll take your sister to get fixed up right this very second. But please, if she sees you crying it’ll upset her. I need your brave face now,” Ezekiel whispers. Peeta nods against his chest, and wipes away his tears angrily when his father lets him go. He puts on his best brave face for his sister as he follows their father back into their bedroom.  
  
“Briar, baby? Peeta says you’re sick,” the Baker says calmly as he kneels down next to his daughter. Briar responds with more raspy coughing. From where he stands behind their father, Peeta can see that her entire body is convulsing in a very scary way.  
  
“Is Mother awake?” Briar says when the fit subsides. Ezekiel kisses her temple before shaking his head.  
  
“No. It’s just the three of us. I’m going to wrap you up, and take you to someone who will make you feel all better, alright?”   
  
The little girl nods, and allows her father to swath her in one of the scratchy woolen blankets and swoop her up in his arms. When another coughing fit begins, she muffles them with the hem of the blanket and her own fist.   
  
“Peeta, listen closely to me, alright?” Ezekiel begins. “Go down into the kitchens, and find the pack of matches in the second drawer by the sink. There should be some burlap sacks under the till up front. I want you to gather three loaves of the bread that didn’t sell yesterday—three of them, it doesn’t matter what kind—and wrap them up in the bag. Then get your coat and your shoes on and meet me in the back by the pig pen. Don’t turn on any lights, just use the matches if you need help seeing. Do you understand?” Ezekiel’s tone is firm, but gentle enough not to put Peeta’s nerves on edge. The boy nods obediently, and makes for the stairway.  
  
He finds everything his father requested of him in just a matter of minutes. He selects two loaves of hearty wheat bread and a third made from regular white flour before his hands hesitate. There are a half dozen of the cheese-topped buns left from two days ago in the bin right next to the rest; they’re probably stale enough now that they’ll be part of dinner for his family as opposed to trying to sell them again, even at a sharp discount. But Peeta correctly surmises that these offerings have a very specific purpose; they’ll be traded to the apothecary, Mr. Snyder, for the medicine that could save his sister’s life. Three loaves of bread might not be enough. Even when stale, the cheese buns make for a tasty dinner. He doesn’t think twice as he empties the rolls into the burlap bag alongside the loaves of bread before he turns on his heel towards the backdoor. He’ll take a spanking for taking more than what was requested gladly if it means his sister gets the help he knows she needs. He wedges his feet into a pair of shoes, pulls his jacket on over his pajamas, and retreats into the night.  
  
A chilly breeze blows onto his face as he trails just a few steps behind his father. His hands clutch the burlap sack tightly, and gooseflesh raises on his knuckles. His father must be even colder—he’s not wearing a jacket at all. He hears Briar begin to cry and his father’s voice is hushed as he tries to calm her. It takes a few more paces to realize that they aren’t headed towards Mr. Snyder’s apothecary shop after all. Instead, they’re headed straight for the Seam.  
  
Peeta keeps his thoughts to himself. He doesn’t care who it is that helps his sister so long as she gets better. The notion of a world without Briar flashes through his head again and he feels tears sting at his eyes, but he blinks them back. _She’ll be well again,_ he thinks to himself, allowing the words to fight away the terrible images that invade the space between his eyes. _She just_ has _to be well again._  
  
His father’s brisk walk leads them to the front porch of a house that looks so run down, Peeta wonders if a strong wind couldn’t blow it over. He looks around, and realizes that most of the houses around them look this way. He shivers and clutches the burlap bag tighter to his chest.  
  
“Knock on the door, Peeta. Make it loud; they’ll likely be asleep and we can’t wait out in the wind forever,” Ezekiel says to him. The young boy sucks in a deep breath and lurches forward. His knuckles wrap against the hard wood gently at first, but he wonders if he won’t have woken up the entire Seam by the time he stops. He shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot as they wait. Briar begins to cough again from her place in their father’s arms. Peeta’s stomach is wrenched in knots by the time the door is finally pulled open.  
  
“Wyatt, I’m sorry, I know it’s terribly late. But please, my little girl is sick, and I know Malisse can help her. Please…” Ezekiel says quickly to the grey-eyed man who stands in front of him. Briar’s cough becomes worse, and the man nods quickly.  
  
“Bring her in out of the cold, quickly now,” the man called Wyatt tells them. He stands aside so Ezekiel can walk over the threshold, but Peeta blinks up at him in fright. “Come along, son. You’ll catch your death out there,” the stranger says to him, and motions for him to follow his father. Peeta doesn’t hesitate again.   
  
“Peeta, light a match so I can see. Wyatt, do you have a candle?” Ezekiel asks.  
  
“Right here,” the man responds. Peeta has to set the burlap bag at his feet so he can strike the head of the match against the rough edge of the box. When he does, the room is bathed in a soft flickering light. The man called Wyatt holds the wick of a candle down to him so he can light it and shake the match out before it burns his fingers. “Wait just a moment, and I’ll get Malisse.”  
  
The man sets the candle down on the side board. Ezekiel makes his way over to the narrow dining table that separates the small living nook from the even smaller kitchen, and carefully sets Briar down on top of it. The girl struggles as he lets her down from his arms, and he tuts at her gently and kisses her forehead.  
  
“Hush now. Peeta and I aren’t going anywhere. We’ll be right here the whole time,” Ezekiel says to her tenderly. Peeta takes it as his cue to take a position near his father so he can take his sister’s hand in his own. Briar’s blue eyes seek out his identical pair; Peeta smiles meekly for her.  
  
“You’ll be all better soon. You have to be,” he says with all the strength he can muster as his sister begins to cough again.  
  
A moment later the woman his father called Malisse takes a post on the other side of the table. She places the flickering candle near Briar’s head for better lighting, and looks to Ezekiel for an explanation.  
  
“She was feeling poorly this afternoon, but I didn’t realize…Peeta has been sitting up with her all night. Her breathing is all wrong, and she can’t seem to stop coughing…I’m sure you can see how flushed with fever she is…” Peeta has never in his memory heard Ezekiel’s tone so desperate and confused. He knows in an instant his father is as frightened as he is.  
  
“Remind me of her name, Ezekiel?” the woman called Malisse asks. The man doesn’t get an opportunity to answer.  
  
“Briar. Briar is her name, and she’s my sister. Please, ma’am…please help her,” Peeta says, not caring in the slightest that he’s spoken out of turn. His father places a hand on his shoulder, and the woman gives him a significant look that he cannot immediately place.  
  
“I’ll do everything I can, I promise,” the woman called Malisse says. She turns her attention to Briar, and smiles at her softly. “Briar, dear…I am Mrs. Everdeen. Can I help you sit up for a moment, please? I need to listen to your breathing, but it’ll only take a moment and you can lie back again.”  
  
Briar nods at her and allows Mrs. Everdeen to help her sit up. She leans forward slightly, and Mrs. Everdeen presses her ear to the back of her chest. “Breathe deeply, Briar. As deep as you can.”  
  
Briar takes a few raspy breaths, staring straight at her twin all the while, and lays down again when Mrs. Everdeen guides her shoulders back before putting her hand on the girl’s forehead. Peeta squeezes Briar’s hand even tighter when he sees the same look on Mrs. Everdeen’s face as his own must have moments ago when he wondered if her skin could burn through his hand. The woman takes the candle from the table and hovers it close to the side of Briar’s face. Mrs. Everdeen makes a face, and Peeta realizes she’s been looking into her ears. The woman stands up straight as Briar begins to cough violently. Peeta has to bite down on his tongue to keep his own cries at bay.  
  
“It’s pneumonia, Ezekiel. Why didn’t you take her to my fa—to the apothecary?” Mrs. Everdeen asks quickly.  
  
“I trust you more,” he replies simply. Mrs. Everdeen shakes her head.  
  
“Wyatt? Bring me everything you’ve gathered from the woods recently…herbs, weeds, whatever we have. Come with me, Ezekiel, we’ll find something to help her,” she says with a firm voice that make both men spring into action.  
  
 _He goes into the woods,_ Peeta thinks in wonderment and he watches the broad shoulders of the grey eyed man turn away from them. _Of course…he must be the man Daddy buys squirrels from._  
  
Briar’s lips are moving, but it doesn’t look like she’s trying to cough. Peeta moves closer to her, pressing his ear near her mouth to make out what she might be saying.  
  
“Ev…ever…” Briar begins before another fit takes hold of her. Peeta pushes the hair out of her eyes and bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming out in frustration.  
  
“Don’t you dare die on me, Briar Mellark,” he hisses into her ear. “I won’t live in a world that you aren’t in.”  
  
Briar nods meekly and tries to wipe the tears in her eyes away with the back of her hand. Her movements are clumsy, so Peeta does it for her with the tips of his thumbs instead.  
  
“L-love you, Peet…” Briar whispers.  
  
“Love you more, Briar,” he replies.  
  
The boy steals a glance at the grown-ups huddled in the corner of the kitchen. Their voices are hushed but he catches a word or two here and there: ‘antiseptic’, ‘frequent dosages’, ‘no guarantees’. He tries his best to keep his smile brave, even as he swears her breathing is getting more and more haggard.  
  
Their father hovers over them a moment later. “Peeta, help her sit up, would you?”   
  
The boy nods and climbs up on the table to support her against his chest. Mrs. Everdeen shows him how to thump on her back when a coughing fit begins, “to help loosen up the congestion in her lungs”. The words sound terrifying in Peeta’s head but he obediently does as he’s told.  
  
“Now, Briar, I need you to drink this. It won’t taste good, but you need to drink it all, every last drop,” Mrs. Everdeen says to the sickly girl. Briar nods her understanding, and takes the offered cup in her shaky hand. “There you go…down it all goes,” Mrs. Everdeen says as the girl gulps the concoction back.  
  
A moment later, the woman is holding out her closed palm to their father and murmurs more instructions for what she places in the Baker’s hand. He’s about to open his mouth to thank her when the front door of the dwelling squeals open and slams shut, forcing them all out of their own heads with a start. Mr. Everdeen starts across the floor towards the door to investigate the noise, and Mrs. Everdeen turns her attention back to the Baker.  
  
“They’re all I have left,” she continues. “If the fever doesn’t break with these, you’ll have to go to the apothecary. Between the herbal drink and these tablets here…it’s all I can do for her.”  
  
“Of course. Thank you so much, Malisse. If there’s anything I can do to repay you and Wyatt—” Ezekiel stammers out.   
  
“The bread, Daddy. Remember, the bread we brought?” Peeta says quietly to his father. He doesn’t want to let go of his sister, so instead he nods towards the middle of the living area where he’d dropped the burlap sack. Ezekiel fetches it immediately, and pushes it into Malisse Everdeen’s arms. The woman peers inside, and shakes her head.   
  
“There’s too much in here, Ezekiel, I’m sure of it,” the woman objects, moving to hand the sack back to the Baker.  
  
“No. I could empty out the entire bakery, and it still wouldn’t be enough to repay you for my child’s life. Take it, Malisse. Your girls need it,” the Baker tells her firmly. After a hesitant moment, Mrs. Everdeen nods slowly and places the sack on the counter behind her.  
  
“You should take her home and get her to bed. She’ll need rest, and a lot of fluids. Do you need me to write down the dosages?” she asks.  
  
“No. Between Peeta and I, we’ll remember…oh, Malisse, I didn’t think—will Peeta catch this, too?” the twin’s father asks.  
  
“I don’t think so. Keep an eye out, of course, but he should be okay. He should stay with her as much as possible…he seems to be a great comfort to her,” Mrs. Everdeen says gently.  
  
“He is. That’s what they’ve always done their whole lives…protect each other,” Ezekiel says, a fleeting smile crossing his face as he looks at his children. “Come, Peeta. We must go home now and let your sister rest. I’ll explain everything to your mother, and maybe you can stay with her and Rye and Bannock can do your Saturday chores.”  
  
Peeta crawls off the table so his father can scoop his sister back into his arms, and he slowly follows him to the door. Before he follows him through it, he turns back to Mrs. Malisse Everdeen and it’s everything he can do to not throw his arms around her waist in gratitude.   
  
“Thank you, ma’am. Thank you for my sister’s life,” he says humbly. The woman simply nods at him.  
  
They’re the better way back towards Town when a low voice calls out to them. The Mellarks spin around, and see Wyatt Everdeen heading towards them.   
  
“Here…mix this with the antiseptic herbs. It’ll make the concoction go down easier, and soothe her throat at the same time,” the man says, making to hand a small flask to the Baker before realizing he doesn’t have a free hand available. He hands it to Peeta instead. The boy tucks it into his jacket pocket.  
  
“You didn’t need to…” Ezekiel begins. Mr. Everdeen cuts him off with a firm shake of his head.  
  
“It’s the right time for maple syrup…the trees are practically giving it away. I’ll replace this faster than your girl can drink it down. Don’t think on it. Take care of your children, Ezekiel,” the man says.  
  
“And you yours, Wyatt,” the Baker replies. “Come, Peeta. Your mother will be worried.”  
  
Peeta knows that probably isn’t true but he doesn’t question his father on it. As the two men part ways, the boy takes a final look over his shoulder. In the dark of night, he’d barely noticed that Mr. Everdeen had been holding something in his own arms. When he peeks back, he realizes it wasn’t some _thing_ at all—rather, it is some _one_. Grey eyes glint in the moonlight as the tiny face of the girl peeks over her father’s shoulder, her dark hair tousled around her shoulders. She buries her face into her father’s neck and Peeta turns back around quickly.  
  
 _Everdeen._ Katniss _Everdeen._   
  
_Katniss Everdeen’s parents just saved my sister’s life,_ he thinks. His heart thumps wildly in his chest and his head begins to spin in a dizzy, almost joyful daze.   
  
His heart didn’t need another reason to love the grey eyed girl who makes the birds stop when she sings…but he’s gotten one all the same.  
  



	4. Age Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a small amount of religious imagery that should not be taken in any way, shape, or form as proselytization. Its purpose is to further develop a specific character within the context of this story.
> 
> As always, I claim only the character of Briar as my own, and she is entirely influenced by the work of Suzanne Collins. Everything else is my own tribute to her work.

Every child in Twelve knows what they will do with the rest of their lives after they turn 18 and are out of the Reaping forever. The children of the Seam will become the next generation of coal miners; they’ll toil away for ten hours a day, six days a week with nothing more than the sound of pick axes and canary chirps to occupy the space between their ears. Most of them will marry and have children. They’ll love their children fiercely until they are 12 years old, and then they’ll fear for their lives every day until those children turn 18. The cycle will start over again, the only constant being the abject poverty of the citizens, no matter who the head of any given household is.

It’s different for the Mellark children. Unless they choose to, Bannock, Rye, Peeta, and Briar will never enter a coal mine in their lives. They’ll assist their parents in the bakery until Ezekiel and Armarna pass away. Bannock, being the oldest, will own it outright, but his three siblings will always have a steady place of employ for as long as they live. If Bannock marries, he’ll move his family into the dwelling above the bakery kitchens, and Rye, Peeta, and Briar will find other homes to call their own. And while they’ll never exactly eat well, there will always be food on their plates. It is the same for the rest of the children who are fortunate enough to be born into Town families as opposed to Seam families.

(Peeta and Briar decided early on in their lives that they’d live together until the day one of them died. They both hoped to have families of their own, but the idea of not seeing their other half every morning, and wishing them goodnight with every sundown didn’t seem like any sort of decent option to live out their days.)

For the children of the Seam, their 18th year marks an entirely different rite of passage—gone are the days of worrying over their numerous entries in the Reaping ball. In their place are the chirps of the canaries, or rather, the canaries not chirping at all. That is the sound of imminent death they all come to dread even more than Effie Trinket’s affected Capitol accent, proclaiming her wish that “the odds be ever in your favor!” to the huddled crowd on Reaping Day. And they all know that they’re far, far more likely to die horribly in the deep recesses of the coal mines than in one of the Capitol’s Arenas.

The children of the merchants do not possess this fear. Their lives will always be comfortable, at least by District Twelve standards. And while it’s generally uncouth for the Town children to lord this over the heads of their Seam counterparts, it happens far more frequently than not.

_It won’t be me Reaped this year, it’ll be you, or your brother or sister._

_I’ll live to see age 40…maybe even 50. You’ll be lucky to see 30._

Peeta and Briar hate hearing their friends sling these barbs at their classmates, but they also recognize their lack of power to do anything about it. They keep their lips pursed and try not to look the Seam children in the eye when it can be avoided. Peeta’s weakness, of course, is always seeking out Katniss, but his eyes flit away every single time she might catch him looking at her. If he were braver, or at least if his tongue didn’t tie into a thousand knots as soon as her steely grey eyes bore into him, he’d tell her that he was sorry for the things his friends said. He’d tell her there were plenty of Town kids who didn’t like what they said. Town kids like Madge Undersee, Delly Cartwright, Briar, him…especially him.

But his tongue always betrays him. And he hates that.

* * *

Fifth grade is the first time that Briar and Peeta are split up in separate classes. The school administrators insisted that it would be for the best for the twins to learn some distance from one another. They told their parents that they should learn how to be independent from one another, particularly with their 12th birthday around the corner and the consequence that being 12 years old brings. Their mother even goes so far as to tell Peeta that he’ll finally have to move his mattress into Bannock and Rye’s room. Briar bursts into tears, and begs their father not to make Peeta move out of their room. It is one of the few times that Ezekiel truly puts his foot down with his wife. The twins are still upset they aren’t in the same class at school, but their lunch at least falls at the same time so it’s not as terrible as it could be. Peeta won’t admit it to his sister, but he’s glad that at least he’s still in the same class as Katniss.

Peeta is sitting in the back of the classroom with Delly, their heads bent over their science textbook as Ms. Purcell natters on about hydrodynamics and their application in coal mining when everyone hears it. It begins softly, like the sound of a dog when you accidentally step on its tail; soon it’s a loud, ear piercing cry. Everyone in their District knows this is not a good sound. The sound means disaster. The sound means families will be torn apart. The sound means death.

Katniss is the first student out of her chair. Her hand is closing around the knob on the classroom door when Ms. Purcell calls her name firmly, making her freeze in place.

“Miss Everdeen, you are not excused from my classroom until I tell you so, no matter what the reasoning,” the teacher says. Katniss doesn’t respond verbally. She glares at the woman, and Ms. Purcell glares back. The classroom is so silent that all anyone can hear is the sirens outside and the hubbub in the hallway of students leaving their classrooms, students with teachers less strict about protocol than Ms. Purcell is. A minute or two tick by. Katniss is beginning to look desperate. Her hand is shaking on the doorknob, begging their teacher silently to allow her to turn it so she can fly through it. Finally, Ms. Purcell clears her throat.

“I expect each and every one of you to _walk_ , not _run_. You are excused,” she says. Briar and Peeta swear they hear her mumble “And good luck,” afterwards, but they can’t be sure. Katniss is gone immediately, a flash of a dark braid being the last thing Peeta sees of her. Most of the other students leap to their feet, not bothering with their notebooks and backpacks—Peeta realizes quickly most of those students are the dark haired, olive skinned Seam children, just like Katniss. It makes sense: they’re going to check on their parents, hoping that the sirens that indicate a mine accident haven’t also turned them into orphans.

He and Delly hang back, along with one or two of the other Town children. They calmly collect their things and retrieve their coats from the alcove at the back of the room. They file out near Ms. Purcell without saying anything to her. Peeta wonders if their teacher knows anyone in the mines—perhaps a friend, maybe even a lover that she hasn’t married yet? The look on the woman’s face is unreadable. They’re pushed and prodded as soon as they get into the hallway. Peeta and Delly both stand up on their tiptoes, Peeta looking for Briar and Delly seeking out her younger brother. When she spots her sibling, Delly squeezes her friend’s arm lightly.

“Bye, Dell,” he says simply, and continues to fight the crowd in the direction of Briar’s classroom. He finds her huddled in the doorway of her classroom with Madge Undersee, who’s chewing on her lip nervously. Briar throws her arms around her twin’s neck when he gets to her.

“What, um…what do we do?” Peeta stammers when they break their embrace. He’s saying it to Madge as much as he is his sister. After all, Madge is the mayor’s daughter. Surely she knows what the Town kids are supposed to do when there’s a mine accident.

“There’s nothing we can do. You two should find your older brothers, and go home,” Madge tells them, looking sadly at the last few Seam children who bustle by in a hurry to catch up with the crowds on their way to the mine entrances.

“Daddy probably needs help with the last of the baking for the day,” Briar says, her voice disjointed.

“I wouldn’t expect too many customers today,” Madge says with a shake of her head. “The Peacekeepers will all be…busy.”

Peeta nods and tugs on his sister’s hand. Briar squeezes Madge’s arm in the way Delly had squeezed his own before they leave her presence. They use a secondary entrance out of the side of school and find Bannock and Rye sneaking a badly rolled cigarette with some of their friends. They’re joking around casually, as if the mine sirens aren’t screaming in their ears, and it makes Peeta and Briar both livid at them.

“Go on home, brats,” Bannock says to them, pushing Peeta’s shoulder. “Mother’ll just be closing up the front. There won’t be anything else to do other than chores.”

“Do you think you get out of them?” Briar snaps at him.

“Mother and Dad don’t care what we do,” Rye continues, blowing smoke in his sister’s face. “They just care about their _babies_ being accounted for.”

“Whatever. C’mon, Peet,” Briar says with a roll of her eyes. They pretend not to notice the older boys laughing at them as they run off.

They breeze through the backdoor of the bakery and are immediately swept up into a hug by their father, who’s quelling the fires in the ovens. He kisses the tops of their heads, and points them towards the staircase that leads up to the family dwelling.

“Go change out of your school clothes, then come help us close up. We’ll eat dinner early tonight,” he tells them.

“But what do we _do_?” Peeta yelps. The sirens still haven’t stopped wailing and they’re beginning to give him a headache.

“We should be thankful we weren’t in the mines today,” Ezekiel says with a sigh. “And we pray for the people who were.”

The twins jerk back at what their father says. Many times they’ve caught him with his head hung low and eyes squeezed shut, murmuring things to himself. When they were eight they had asked him what he’d meant when he’d said _Amen_ and swiped his hand in a straight line from the middle of his eyebrows to his chest and then back and forth across his shoulders. When he’d tucked them into bed, he’d explained that he was doing a thing called _praying_ , but that they couldn’t tell their mother or anyone else about it.

_It’s something our family did before the Dark Days. It’s a way to communicate with God, and tell Him we’re afraid or thankful for what He’s given us._

_God?_ they had asked him curiously.

_God,_ he’d responded in a voice quieter than a whisper. _Before the Dark Days, God was understood to be the Father of us all, our protector and our light. Our family believed in Him above all things. But children, this is so very, very important…God is not allowed in Panem. It is absolutely illegal to talk about God. So again, you cannot tell your mother I’ve told you these things. It must, must be our secret._

_We promise, Daddy_ , they’d told him in their hushed voices. Ezekiel had never brought it up since, and was much more cautious on the rare occasions he allowed himself his own private rebellion of prayer. Briar and Peeta are stunned that he’s said it so casually now. Their father looks around to make sure his wife hasn’t over heard their conversation. He runs his index finger over his lips to remind them both of their promise to keep his words secret, and sends them on their way up the stairs.

When they reach their bedroom, Briar closes the door tightly and jerks on her brother’s hand. “Come on,” she whispers to him. “We need to pray.”

“I don’t know how,” Peeta says.

“Me neither. But don’t you think we ought to try?”

* * *

Their mother cuffs Bannock and Rye for not coming straight home after school but neither boy seems particularly fazed by it. When the bakery is closed down and the front entrance is locked, the family sits down for their evening meal. The sun seems to set even earlier that night, and their mother sends all four children to bed as soon as the dishes are cleared. But it’s too early, and Peeta lights a small candle in the corner of the room he shares with his sister so he can draw until he’s properly tired.

“Peet?” Briar says after a few minutes of lying nearly perfectly still on their bed.

“Huh?” Peeta responds without looking up from his sketch.

“You’re drawing it, aren’t you?” she says without looking over at where he lays. He looks down at the bit of graphite in his hand and the paper underneath. He knows exactly what she means because, yes: he’s drawn what he supposes the inside of a collapsed mine looks like.

“Um…yeah…how’d you…” he stammers out. His sister shrugs.

“I just figured. It’s what you do to get it out of your head. Can I see it?” she asks. Normally she’d just snatch it out from his grasp when he pauses for a moment to stretch his fingers or push his hair out of his eyes. This time, however, she wants to be delicate about it. If he says no, she’ll respect that.

“When I’m done,” he promises, and goes back to his work. She doesn’t question him on it. He’s quiet for a few moments, and then purses his lips. “How do you get it out of your head?” he asks her when he puts his bit of graphite down.

“I don’t have a way. That’s just my problem. You have your art, and I suppose we all have the work in the bakery, but…I can’t stop thinking about it. I wish I could,” she says sadly.

“Oh,” he says, not sure how to respond.

“Is it awful to be happy that we won’t ever work in the mines?” she wonders aloud.

“I dunno. Maybe a little,” he says.

“I feel awful for thinking it,” she admits.

“But you’re not awful,” he tells her. “You’re the best person I know.”

“You have to say that. You’re my brother,” she says warily.

“No I don’t. I’m Bannock and Rye’s brother, too. And they’re awful sometimes. Not all the time. But, like today…they were awful to us. And probably everyone else they talked to today,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah…I guess…are you finished?” she asks him, eyeing his drawing. He hands it to her, and she has to squint to make out the details. She hands it back to him a minute later.

“It’s extraordinary. But—don’t take this bad, okay?—I hate it.”

“You do?” he asks, feeling a little wounded.

“I don’t mean it like that…I mean, I hate why you had to draw it. I hate what it means,” she explains.

“Oh. I guess…”

“But it’s extraordinary. Really,” she tells him again. “I guess I just feel happier when you draw pictures of the daisies and dandelions in the Meadow.”

“I’ll draw one for you tomorrow. My eyes kinda hurt now,” he says, putting the graphite in its spot behind his mattress, stashing the drawing with a few of his others, and blowing out the candle. She feels him climb up onto the mattress next to hers. They share a sigh a minute later.

“How many do you supposed died today?” she whispers to him.

“I dunno. Maybe just a couple. I hope just a couple,” he whispers back.

“I hope Katniss’s father is okay,” she says a moment later.

Peeta feels instantly guilty that this thought hadn’t crossed his mind until his sister said it.

“Me too,” he says back.

The twins fall into a fitful sleep. School is canceled the next day. That afternoon, a list circulates through the District with the names of the fallen miners. Peeta runs off to their room when he sees a copy of it, and Briar chases after him and hugs him tightly to her side. They cry a few tears over the name ‘Wyatt Everdeen’ before their mother demands them to return to the kitchens and get back to work.

* * *

Weeks go by. The winter is one of the most bitterly cold in the twin’s memories. Even though they both prefer to sleep with the window cracked open, they leave it shut tight and still have to huddle together to keep warm enough to sleep at night. Their parents keep them busy in the bakery kitchens and their mother insists they start taking shifts in the storefront to take care of customers there, too. They are so preoccupied with their home and school work that it takes Peeta a shockingly long time to notice how thin Katniss is becoming. He points it out to Briar after a few days of studying her hollow cheeks, and she nods at him in agreement.

“I heard someone in the hallway say that she’s doing all the shopping for her family. Her mother hasn’t been spotted once since…well,” Briar whispers to him at lunchtime one day. Peeta worries at the corner of his lip, but can’t seem to figure out what to do about it. He reluctantly decides that there isn’t anything to do about it at all—he might harbor a deep, unrequited crush on the girl, but he isn’t her friend. And remembering back to the terrible night that he and his father had called upon her parents when Briar was ill, he knows the family doesn’t take charity. Not that he really has anything to give to begin with.

She grows thinner. The days creep closer to May, when he knows her birthday falls. She’ll be 12 just like he and Briar will be at the end of June. He supposes its a good thing—if she has regular access to grain, she’ll stop getting so thin. But he doesn’t want to consider how many times her name might be in the Reaping compared to how many times his own and Briar’s will be. It frightens him too much.

A cold and rainy day greets them in late April. He’s helping his mother in the kitchens put the final loaves of the day into the ovens. Briar is up front with their father minding the till. The older Mellark boys are making deliveries, much to their chagrin. Peeta’s just turned a pan in the oven around to make sure the loaves brown on all sides properly when his mother yanks open the back door and begins to screech at the top of her lungs. He ducks instinctively, thinking he’s done something wrong without realizing it and is about to get a walloping for it. But Armarna is yelling about Seam brats and Peacekeepers, so Peeta feels confident enough to walk up behind her to see whom she’s really yelling at. His mouth falls open when he sees Katniss shrink back behind one of the trees in their backyard. Her clothes are drenched and cling to her body closely. He realizes that she’s gotten much, much skinnier in only the last couple of days than he remembers. She looks a bit like the skeleton the science teachers bring in for anatomy lessons, except with skin and hair but nothing else.

It frightens him in a way he’s never been frightened before.

He returns to his post before his mother knows he’d abandoned it. The loaves in the oven that he’s been minding are the very last of the day and he reaches in with a gloved hand to remove the for cooling. The idea comes to him quickly. He knows he’ll be in trouble immediately, but he doesn’t care.

He carefully pulls out the loaves in the very front and sets them on the countertop without incident. There are two loaves at the very back that he decides are it. He reaches in and drags the pans across the hot rack a little too close to the six inch gap at either end of the wide oven. He wonders if his mother is watching, or will only see later. He doesn’t hesitate either way—he nudges his wrists erratically to the side, and watches the loaves fall into the flames below.

“Peeta!” his mother shouts, and pushes him out of the way. With only a thin towel at her waist she snatches the rack from the oven and reaches in for the loaves. Too late, they both realize. She tosses the burnt bread to the ground at his feet and wheels around to face him. He doesn’t so much as flinch when she grasps the rolling pin he’d been using at his station, and thumps it hard against his cheek.

“You useless boy! Careless! Wasteful! How dare you?” Armarna screams.

“I’m sorry! It was an accident!” Peeta says, trying to sound like he means it. Armarna shoves him to his knees, and points at the bread.

“Get that out of my sight!” she snaps.

He uses his apron to pick up the loaves without being burnt by them and heads for the backdoor. He steps out into the rain, and his eyes land quickly on the spot he’d seen her moments before. To his great relief, she hasn’t budged.

“Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature!” Armarna yells after him. “Why not? Nobody decent will buy burned bread!”

He tears off large chunks of the charred crust while he knows his mother is watching. He hears the bell in the storefront chime, and even though he knows his father and Briar are up there, he sees out of the corner of his eye that she’s gone up there as well. He knows he’ll have to be quick about it.

He tosses a few more chunks of the ruined loaves and tosses them into the pig pen. Then he tosses them deliberately towards the tree in the back where Katniss cowers in the rain. He slogs back into the bakery quickly without daring to look her way again. His clothes are soaked all the way through when the door from the storefront opens wide. Briar is at his side at once, putting her arm around his waist and staring in horror at the red mark on his cheek. She leads him up the stairs before his clothes make puddles on the kitchen floor, but into the tiny bathroom instead of their bedroom.

She runs a cloth under the cold water tap, and presses it to his cheek. “What did you do?” she asks him, her voice sounding pained. He tells her everything, the look in his eyes positively sanguine.

“Doesn’t it hurt terribly?” she asks, running the cloth under the water again. He flinches when she replaces it over the mark on his cheekbone.

“I don’t care. I had to do it,” he explains. He removes his shirt and pants and wraps up in a towel before he begins shivering.

“Because she was hungry,” Briar surmises. “Peeta, if you’d just told me we could have come up with another idea.”

“And let you get this? No way, Briar. It’s fine, the swelling won’t even last long. Besides…I owe her…” he says quietly. It takes his sister a moment to figure out his words.

“You mean from those years ago when I got pneumonia? Peeta…Daddy paid her family square for that medicine. You know that, you picked the bread out!” she scolds him.

“Doesn’t matter. Her family took care of you when you needed it. Her family needed that bread more than we needed the copper pieces it sells for,” he says without batting an eye. She shakes her head gravely.

“Mother’s furious. She might try getting in another wallop before she gets over this. You know how she’s been lately.”

“I don’t care, Briar! Don’t you think I did the right thing?”

Briar purses her lips. She wants to get it through her brother’s thick head that _this_ wasn’t necessary, that they truly could have come up with another way to get some food to Katniss and her family without their mother ever having to know about it if they’re really so poorly off. But she knows he won’t listen to her.

“You did a very noble thing. I…I hope it helps them,” she tells him after a short silence. She presses the washcloth to his face again before she turns on her heels. “Hide out in the bedroom, and I’ll clean up your station and try to keep Mother away from you. Maybe I can find an ice cube for your face, too,” she whispers to him.

He nods quickly and does as she tells him. When he stretches out on his lumpy mattress and curls under the covers, a smile creeps across his lips so wide it makes the sting on his cheek that much more painful. At long last he feels like he’s done something right by Katniss Everdeen.

* * *

He feels her eyes seek him out a few different times at school the next day. Her eyes are still sunken and hollow but her color seems to have improved a bit with a proper meal in her belly. He tries to meet her gaze but this time it’s her eyes’ turn to flit away as soon as they share the same line of sight. It goes like this all day until finally they’re excused for the day, and the entire class traipses out to the front of the building to meet with their friends and siblings. Peeta hangs out in a specific spot to wait for Briar, but keeps an eye on Katniss as she she wanders down the few steps and stands in the grass. He thinks for a moment that she’s about to turn and wave at him, and he braces himself to wave back.

Instead she bends at the waist and yanks a dandelion up out of the grass. She studies it carefully for a moment before she finds her own small sister’s hand, and pulls her along towards their home. Peeta watches as they walk with a purpose away from him and tries not to feel too disappointed.

“Did she say anything?” Briar asks. He hadn’t noticed her walk up to him, and jumps at the sound of her voice. He shakes his head in response.

“What was that she picked up off the ground?” she asks, following her twin’s gaze out towards the Meadow on the far side of Town.

“I dunno. I think a dandelion?” Peeta says with a shrug.

“Dandelion roots are edible, you know. I remember her father telling Daddy that once a couple of years ago,” Briar says nonchalantly. “Come on, we’ve got chores, and you don’t want to make Mother any madder than she was yesterday.”

Peeta follows her back to the bakery in silence. He’s determined to keep an eye on Katniss and her sister for as long as he needs to to make sure they don’t ever go so hungry again that he can see the line of her hipbones jut out of her clothes. He knows he’d help her again without a second thought, no matter what his mother might hit him with.

The need never arises again. In a way, Peeta is relieved. In yet another he misses her, even though he’s sure she still doesn’t know his name.


	5. Age Twelve

Their nightmares begin on their 12th birthday.

Ezekiel gives them each one of the small honey cakes from the bakery. Armarna excuses them from their chores, but otherwise says nothing else. Bannock and Rye are relatively nice to them. It's all about as much as they can expect from their family on this auspicious birthday. It doesn't matter if you're Town or Seam: no child in District Twelve really looks forward to turning this age.

Despite the day being hot and humid, Briar and Peeta choose to spend it outside in the Meadow. They fold their honey cakes into a cloth napkin and sneak a stale cheese bun from the day-old display to share. Briar tucks a glass jug of cold water under the arm that isn't loaded down with their small picnic and a book to read, and Peeta takes the bit of charcoal he'd saved up to buy at a stall in the public market and his dwindling pad of sketching paper.

They stretch out under a shady tree. The day is too hot for anyone to be out and about other than them. Peeta sketches the buildings of the District to look like an abandoned ghost town, adding the silhouettes of a young boy and girl in the bottom corner as a final touch. Without being asked, he hands it to Briar for her opinion.

"It's good, Peet. It's really good," she tells him. Ever since the mine explosion, her brother's drawings have been turning grimmer and grimmer in subject matter. She tries to pretend it doesn't bother her, but she misses the days he drew fields of flowers and butterflies. Those made her happy. And she could sure use a little bit of happiness on a day like today.

"You want me to draw something else?" he asks as if he's reading her mind. She supposes that maybe he can. That's what their father always says, anyway.

"If you want," she says. She yanks up a handful of daisies and starts knotting the stems together. He trades the bit of charcoal for his new piece of graphite and looks around for inspiration. He's tired of drawing daisies and trees. Even the Town buildings he's just put down on paper are beginning to come easily to him. He'd had the idea recently to try his hand at portraits and has been moderately pleased with what he's done. The one of Bannock and their father in the kitchens was good, even by his own lofty expectations. Lately though, he's been trying hard to get a good image of Briar down, and it's been alarmingly difficult. He's pretty sure he knows the curves of her face and the placement of her eyes better than he knows his own—it should be easy.

It isn't.

He's ready to rip the paper to shreds in frustration (a spectacular waste when he's already almost out of sketching paper to begin with) by the time his sister is done with a matching pair of daisy chains. She places one on his head delicately after putting one in her own hair and looks at him curiously.

"What's wrong?" she asks, seeing his eyes dart about quickly, a telltale indicator he's over-thinking something.

"I showed you the picture of Dad and Bannock, right?" he says quietly. She nods, remembering she'd been really impressed by how lifelike it was. "Well…I can get them down on paper alright enough, and Delly liked the one I did of her so much she gave me a copper piece so she could have it," he continues, but cuts himself short.

"But…?" she presses.

"Why do the ones of you look all screwy?" he says with a groan.

Briar's eyes go wide. "You're trying to draw _me_?"

Peeta shrugs. "Trying, but failing."

"Oh. Can I see?" she asks tentatively. He grips his notebook a little tighter, like he does when he's drawn something he thinks she might laugh at. She scoots a little closer to him. "C'mon…you're probably just being hard on yourself. I'm sure it looks alright."

"I already scribbled it out," he lies blatantly.

"Why won't you show me?" she presses.

"I just told you—it doesn't look good," he says plainly.

"So try again. That's how you get better, right? Practicing?" she replies. Whatever gene her twin inherited that made him such a good artist decidedly did not get passed on to her, but what she's said makes pretty good sense to her.

He purses his lips, frustration still burning across his brow, but he nods. "Lemme try again," he tells her. "You can see it for sure when I'm done."

"Okay," she says without pressing the matter further. She mops the sweat off her own face with the corner of her shirt, lays back against the trunk of the tree, and closes her eyes. A slight breeze picks up. It isn't enough to really cool either of them down, but it's soothing enough to lull her into an unexpected nap.

* * *

_She and Peeta are dressed head to toe in luxurious finery. He's in a crisp sky blue suit, and she's in a puffy pink dress. Her shoes make it difficult to walk, but he steadies her with their interlocked hands. They're waving, but they can't see the faces of the people they are waving at. Hoots and hollers surround them from every side. It's confusing. When she finally steals a glance at her brother, she sees a pained look on his face. Lines are stretched across his forehead and his eyes are squinted. He looks afraid, but she can't tell about what._

_That's when a countdown begins. Not a chanted regression of numbers; a loud ticking over, and over, and over. She looks around. She can still hear people calling out their names, but instead all she sees are tall trees and a purple-blue sky. She shudders._

_The gong sounds. Finally she knows exactly where she is. She's frozen in place for a second before Peeta pulls on her hand again._

_"Come on, Briar! We have to run! Why aren't you moving?! We have to go!" He screams in her ear. Her legs are still too heavy to move. She turns her head from side to side and begins to see red. She finally gets her feet working enough to turn back to her brother and tell him she's ready to go. Too late. He lies at her feet, his eyes wide open but unseeing, his skin caked in blood that should be too plentiful to be his own. She cries out in agony._

* * *

"Briar! Briar, wake up!" Peeta, the real Peeta, says as he shakes her shoulder. She trembles as she gets her bearings in the conscious world again. She opens her mouth to speak but nothing but a low, pained whine escapes them.

"What'd you dream of?" He asks her. "You were only asleep for a minute..."

"It...it was us..." She whimpers, trying to blink the image of her brother as a corpse out of her brain.

"What about us?"

"In...in the Games. Both of us. We were in the Capitol one second, and then the Arena the next. I couldn't move, so you tried to make me and then...and then..." She is unable to choke out another word before sobs overtake her and make it difficult to breathe. Peeta wraps his arms around his sister, and tries to be strong for her even though what she's described sounds exactly like his own worst nightmare.

"Don't even think about that," he tells her. "Don't even imagine it. It won't happen."

"How do you know?" She sobs.

"I...it just won't, okay? Trust me. We'll be okay. We won't get Reaped," he tells her with a steady voice. He knows this isn't a promise he or anyone else can really make. Twelve year olds get Reaped sometimes. It's usually the ones who are the oldest in big families, who've taken out as many tesserae marks as they are legally allowed to, of course. Their brothers never took out a single tesserae because their father wouldn't allow it. He and Briar never would either. Of all the twelve year olds in their District, he and Briar were as safe as anyone could possibly be.

It's a long while before they speak again. Briar wipes away the last of her tears with the back of her hand. Her voice is almost bemused when she says "I sort of always figured you could only have nightmares at night."

"Yeah...guess not," Peeta replies.

"Did you finish your drawing?" She asks, looking over at the parchment lying abandoned on the grass.

"Um...not really. It was a little easier though while you were asleep...you wiggle too much when you're awake," he tells her. It makes her laugh a little bit.

"Do not," she says haughtily.

"Do too," he replies. They're almost back to normal.

"Can I see it?" She asks again. It's beginning to grow too hot for them to continue to try and ignore, and they both know they'll have to go home soon.

"It's not good...it doesn't look anything like you," he tells her as he reluctantly hands the bit of paper to her. She studies it quietly.

"Why don't I have a face?" She asks after a minute.

"I dunno. I told you it doesn't look anything like you. It's weird...I know how you look better than anyone else, but you're the only person I can't draw."

Briar considers this for a moment. "You can't draw Katniss very well either."

"Yeah, well...her I have an excuse for. Never really seen what color her eyes are," he says glumly and takes the pad back from her.

"They're grey. Not coal grey like some if the other Seam kids. Light grey. The way the sky looks when it's gonna storm," she tells him.

"How do you know that?" He asks her without bothering to pretend he's not surprised. She shrugs.

"You look at everything else about her. I don't see everything you see. All I see is her eyes," she says, knowing it makes no sense.

"Oh...thanks," he tells her. He's not sure what else to say.

"Dad'll get worried if we don't go home soon," Briar says suddenly. Peeta nods in agreement.

* * *

That night as they lie on their lumpy mattresses side by side, it's Peeta's turn to have the nightmares. He wakes frozen in terror when the Effie Trinket of his subconscious pulls Briar's name out of the Reaping ball and it takes a while before he's conscious enough to roll over to catch a peek at her sleeping soundly next to him.

When he finally does, he realizes she wasn't asleep at all. They cling to each other for the rest of the night, telling each other over and over again that it won't be either of them. They aren't sure if they're lying or not.

* * *

The only night they spend without the nightmares is the night before the Reaping. They're too terrified to close their eyes. They keep their candle burning all night long so they can focus on other things, not caring what their mother would do if she found out about the waste. A cuffing is the least of their concerns, really.

"What if it's Rye? Or Ban?" Briar whispers. She feels suddenly very selfish that the only one of her brothers she's been worried over has been Peeta.

"They're strong. And big. Might even be bigger than the boys who come out of the Career Districts…" Peeta says.

"Only weapon they've ever used is a rolling pin, though…" Briar mentions.

"Rolling pins do plenty of damage when they need to," Peeta whispers, trying not to sound bitter and make her feel bad.

"Not as much as a knife," she explains.

"I knew what you meant. If it's Ban or Rye, they're good as dead. Anybody from Twelve is as good as dead," Peeta says with a sense of finality. Briar has to agree with him on that point.

"If it's me…" she begins. He glares at her, silently reminding her that it can't and won't be her. " _If_ it's me, I think I'd just step off the plate early. Get it over with. Not give any of the brutes the satisfaction. I bet getting blown up is painless."

Peeta hates the idea but he can't seem to find the right way to argue against it. In comparison to the Games of the previous year where half the Tributes had died quiet, slow deaths from exposure in the desolate winter wasteland, getting blown up probably was the better way to go.

"I'd want to fight. Try to prove I could do something other than lug flour around before I died," Peeta decides.

"You're stronger than I am. You'd probably last a couple of days. I'd be as good as dead the first night," Briar replies.

"You're smart," Peeta tells her. "People like you. You could probably get sponsors."

"People like you more, Peet. They just like me by association," she tells him with a shake of her head.

"Don't talk like that. I hate that we're talking like that," he says with a heavy sigh.

"What should we talk about instead?" she asks. He doesn't know how to reply.

"Anything. Butterflies. Pigs. Sunsets. Whatever."

They fall silent instead.

"Do you remember when I was sick, Peet? Do you remember what I said to you when I told you it was hard to breathe?" Briar says after a while.

"I…I told you I'd breathe for you if I could," he stammers.

"I'd go in for you if I could. If girls could volunteer for boys, and they pulled your name…I'd go in instead," she tells him.

He's overcome. "I wouldn't let you," he tells her.

"I wouldn't give you a choice. I'd volunteer before Effie Trinket finishes saying our last name," she says plainly.

"It doesn't work that way and you know it," he says, feeling almost angry.

"I know. I just wouldn't want to be the one of us left behind," she says.

This pushes him over the line. He sits up and points his finger at her harshly. "I don't care what happens, Briar. But the words 'I volunteer as Tribute' better never come out of your mouth in your entire life. Or I'll never forgive you. Promise me."

"Peeta, I know that it doesn't work that w—"

" _Promise. Me._ "

"Only if you promise me," she says, eyeing him warily.

"I promise," he says without flinching.

"Fine. Then I promise, too."

* * *

Morning light creeps through their window a few hours later. Their candle had burned out, but neither child had slept a wink. They get out of bed and pull on their work clothes; technically the bakery won't close down until noon that day in preparation for the Reaping at 1:00. It's a rare occasion they have customers past 10:00 or 11:00. All the same, the children will all be expected to put in a morning's work before getting ready to go to the town square in the afternoon.

Her nerves and lack of sleep get the better of her, and Briar drops an egg she was carrying over to mix into cake batter. Armarna watches the entire event happen but merely hisses at her daughter to clean up the mess and not be so careless before storming out of the kitchen in favor of the storefront. Her brothers all look at her peculiarly. Peeta is the only one who doesn't understand that one of the rare days that Armarna can always be counted on to keep her hands to herself is Reaping Day. Briar does as her mother says and continues mixing the batter quietly.

Ezekiel excuses the children one by one to go up to the tiny shared bathroom and get ready for the afternoon. He starts with Briar since her hair takes the longest to wash, then Bannock and Rye. Peeta moves around in the kitchen as quietly as he can manage when he's the only one left there with his father. After a moment, the baker sighs and puts his hand on Peeta's shoulder.

"Your name has only been in once, Peeta. You and Briar…you're as safe as you can be," Ezekiel says. Peeta nods silently. "Before you know it, you'll both be waking up on the morning of your very last Reaping, like Bannock did this morning. Then you'll have the rest of your lives to do with exactly as you want."

"Sure, Dad," Peeta says as he kneads the dough under his hands smooth. A tap at the back door stops his father from saying anything further. Peeta keeps working even though he desperately wants to follow his father to answer it. He wonders if it's her again.

"Good morning, children," he overhears Ezekiel say. "Did you have a good haul this morning?"

"Squirrels and rabbits, mainly. Interested?" a gruff voice not much older than Peeta's responds. He supposes he was wrong about which trader arrived that day.

"Can I see a couple of the squirrels?" Ezekiel asks.

"'Course. Catnip here shoots 'em between the eyes every time," the strange voice responds. If Peeta weren't more careful, he would have dropped the dough at his feet right there and then. She _was_ there. And it seemed like she had a new hunting partner.

"She sure does. My compliments, my dear. It seems as though you're as accurate as your…well…I'll take two of them, if that's alright. What would you like in return?" Ezekiel says. Peeta quivers.

"Only what's fair, sir, as always," a decidedly different voice says. Even after seven years, Peeta still feels like his heart stops when he hears Katniss Everdeen's voice.

"Peeta?" Ezekiel says, snapping his youngest out of his reverie. "I need you to fetch two of the loaves cooling on the sideboard, son."

Very carefully, Peeta does as his father asks. As he walks towards the door he tries to pluck up his courage to say something thoughtful and intelligent, anything to maybe impress Katniss a little, but his tongue is hopelessly tied, a usual occurrence whenever she's nearby.

His eyes flit over to the Seam traders briefly. Katniss's eyes are locked on her feet and a scowl stretches across her face. At least she looks like she's eating almost properly. He vaguely recognizes the boy with her—Gil? Gale?—but he knows he's a few years older than they are. The boy's gaze meets his own briefly. Peeta tries to turn away, but the boy clears his throat.

"This is your first Reaping, huh?" the Seam boy says. Peeta nods quickly, not wanting to say anything and trip over his words. Especially not in front of _her._

"Well…wouldn't worry too much if _I_ were _you_." The boy looks at him like he wants continue on. Maybe say something really mean. He thinks hard on it, and is pretty sure that he's seen this boy around the District with two or three younger siblings. He probably takes out tesserae after tesserae to feed them and his parents. He probably had as many entries as Bannock does in his final year by the time he was 13. Peeta wonders if he'd be so bold as to say something to that effect in front of his father, who's always a willing trader to hunters.

"We gotta go, Gale," Katniss says just barely audibly. Her eyes never rise above the ground.

"Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Mellark," the boy called Gale says to Ezekiel. The baker nods at them.

"Good luck to you both," Ezekiel says as he closes the door tightly. He puts the small carcasses on the sideboard, and smoothes Peeta's hair under his palm. "Rye ought to be done in the bathroom by now. Head on up and wash your face. The older boys will find something for you to wear. Make sure Briar's ready, too, will you?"

"Yes, Dad," Peeta says quietly before turning and heading up the stairs. He turns around briefly, thinking his father has said something to get his attention again, but Ezekiel doesn't look up from the dough he's kneading. Peeta decides he's just hearing things.

He only takes a few minutes in the bathroom. He scrubs the flour out from the crevasses in his fingernails and scrubs his face with the cold tap water. Bannock and Rye's door is wide open when he pads down the hallway to knock on it. He clears his throat instead. "Um…Dad said you've got a shirt for me to wear?"

"Yeah, that one there," Rye says, pointing to a powder blue button down hanging on the doorknob before he goes back to buttoning his own under his throat. Peeta's sure it'll be easily two sizes too big on him, but it's better than nothing. He grabs it quickly and makes to go to his and Briar's room when Bannock calls out to him.

"Hold up, Peet," the oldest boy says, and beckons his youngest brother to him. He pulls a little jar off the dresser top and drops a few fingers into it. They reemerge covered in a waxy goo which Bannock spreads quickly through Peeta's curly hair. The younger boy catches a look at his reflection in the mirror and notes that he looks exactly like a smaller version of Bannock and Rye. He manages a small smile at Bannock.

"It'll be over before you know it," the eldest says before placing the jar back on the dresser top. He doesn't say anything else, and Peeta takes that as his subtle hint for him to scram. He shuffles down the hallway to the bedroom he shares with his twin, the shirt clutched tightly in his hand. It takes him all of two seconds to notice that his sister is crying. He's at her side with his hand in hers the next instant.

"I h-hate this…" Briar stammers between tears as she rests her head on her brother's shoulder.

"Me too," Peeta replies.

"My hair won't stay in place. Mother will yell at me if she sees me like this."

"Ban fixed mine. Maybe he can fix yours, too."

"I hate the dress she's making me wear. It itches."

"I'm gonna look like a dwarf in the shirt Rye gave me," Peeta tells her, holding it up for her inspection. It brings a small smile to her face very briefly before she starts crying harder.

"I don't want to die," she whispers.

"Me neither," he replies and holds her close.


	6. Age Fourteen

When Peeta tries to put on the powder blue button down shirt the morning of his and Briar's third Reaping, he discovers his shoulders have become far too broad for it to button. He groans and tosses the shirt back into the drawer he pulled it out of. It's wrinkled anyway. His mother would never allow him to leave the house for potentially the last time in his life wearing a wrinkled shirt.

Rye hands him a crisp white shirt to wear instead. Peeta dips his fingertips into the small jar of hairwax and smoothes down his curls quickly before retreating back to the bedroom. Briar is fiddling with the clasp on her skirt, and huffing dramatically. Long gone are the days of tears the morning of the Reaping, even though the nightmares haven't gone away.

"Need some help?" Peeta asks gently. Briar's been extra moody lately, and since he's usually the nearest to her at any given moment, she's been taking it out on him an awful lot.

"No…I…damn…I got it," she says, and smoothes the fabric out over her knees. She points to his chest. "You missed a button." Instead of allowing her brother to commandeer the small mirror in the corner, she goes over and fixes it herself. It doesn't take him long to notice that despite her brave, blasé façade, her hands are shaking.

"You look nice," he says simply.

"I look like Mother. I hate this blouse, it's hideous," she says as she paws at the buttons in the center. "And I'm…ugh, I'm disgusting. It doesn't fit right anymore."

"You aren't disgusting. Stop saying things like that, because when you do, you _sound_ like Mother," he tells her wearily.

She doesn't say anything in response. The twins so rarely have time to concentrate on the realities of puberty. Both have noticed the changes in their own bodies of late, but until they stand there and look at one another, they don't realize that their other half has changed just as much. Beyond his shoulders getting broader, Peeta's voice is beginning to deepen and his body smells distinctively more like a man's does. Briar's shirt doesn't fit properly because the buttons pull at the middle, a sign that her own body is becoming all the more feminine day by day. They're growing up, but they so rarely get to enjoy any of the spoils that come with being teenagers, what with school, work in the bakery, and the Reaping always on their minds.

Peeta doesn't blame his sister for being grouchy lately. He supposes it's just one of those things. He holds his hand out to her.

"Time to go," he says reluctantly. She nods and clings to his hand like he's her life support.

"Sorry I was rude," she says as they walk down the stairs.

"S'ok," Peeta responds.

"Not it's not. I don't want the last thing I ever say in front of you to be something _she_ would say," Briar says, paying special attention to make sure Armarna doesn't overhear.

"It's not gonna be the last thing you ever say to me. Don't talk like that, either," he hisses.

"It could be. You don't know," she replies.

"Stop it, Briar, okay? I hate when you say stuff like that!" he says and drops her hand. He still holds the door for her but he's too angry to be comforting right now. He _hates_ that they have to talk like that.

"Hold on, Peeta…" she calls out to him, but he's already the better way down the path to the Town Square. He gets in line with a throng of other children and doesn't turn around to find his sister again until after his finger has been pricked for check-in. He turns around so he can find her among the larger crowd of children lined up behind him, but a Peacekeeper nudges him in his side.

"Go on, son," the man says tersely.

"I'm waiting for my sister," he says defensively. The man shakes his head seriously.

"No waiting here. Go on. You'll see her afterwards," the Peacekeeper says and nudges him again. He scans the crowd as he walks along, trying desperately to find her amongst the throng. When he finally spots her, she looks at him with sadness etched deep on her face. He'd hurt her feelings by storming away like that. He suddenly understood what she'd meant: if that was the last conversation they'd had, the last real interaction before one of them was snatched away from the other forever, he'd never forgive himself. Before the Peacekeeper has another chance to shove him away, he pats his hand over his heart, hoping she sees. She does and returns the gesture.

_At least now we both know_ , he supposes. He plods along to join the other boys in his age group. He hopes the Peacekeeper is right; that he will see her afterwards.

Delly is a few places behind Briar in line. They fall into step with one another after they're checked in. Delly seems to be fighting tears, as usual on Reaping Day, but Briar doesn't want her friend to know that frustrates her. The girls clasp hands automatically when they're ushered into the group of 14 year old girls. It would hurt Delly's feelings to know that she doesn't much care to have her as her source of comfort today; despite their quarrel, Peeta is the only person Briar really wants at her side. But that is not how the Reaping works. Briar finds herself staring at the little stage, praying for the mayor and Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy to just walk out already and get it over with.

They do, but not before Katniss Everdeen falls into place a body length behind Briar. She doesn't even notice the girl at first, because her step is so quiet. She feels eyes staring into the back of her head and turns around nervously, just in time to see Katniss scowling back at her. She tries to offer the girl a smile, but it doesn't seem to be much use. _I wonder if she knows that I know about the bread,_ Briar thinks to herself as Effie clicks on stage and introduces the Capitol propaganda video that booms over the loud speakers in the square. Behind her she swears she hears a scoff come out of Katniss's mouth. But if it had, Katniss has sobered quickly and pretended like it never happened.

Effie's impossibly high heels click over to the bowl with the girl's names in it. Briar feels her hands go clammy. She knows there are only three slips in there with the name Briar Mellark on there, but stranger things have happened. An 18 year old boy from town, the locksmith's son Adrian, had been chosen last year. He'd been one of the first to die. No one from Twelve ever stood a chance. She knows she shouldn't be afraid, that the odds are as much in her favor as they can be, but still—

"Katniss Everdeen!" Effie's voice rings out. And Briar feels the entire world crumple around her, because the world is crumpling around her brother.

But Katniss's face is stoic and eerily calm. She picks her way through the crowd of girls and goes with the Peacekeepers to the stage obediently. Briar swallows over the lump in her throat as she hears a wail come from the gathered crowd. It's the only time Katniss's face wavers at all, when she hears little Primrose's cry ring out over the hushed District.

Briar knows she shouldn't, but her eyes scan over to find her twin's. His jaw is clenched tight when she finds him, his eyes trained on the shoes of the boy who stands in front of him. _He's trying not to cry,_ his sister realizes at once and wishes more than anything they allowed boys and girls to stand together during this whole mess. She's sure she's the only one who could possibly comfort him.

_Don't be a hero, Peeta. Don't do anything stupid, or I'll never forgive you,_ she thinks as Effie's hand reaches into boy's bowl. Her affected Capitol drawl squeaks out the name Orwell Roney, a Seam boy Briar's sure she's never really seen before. _Off to their deaths, the both of them. Oh, Peeta, don't be a hero._

Her brother stays quiet, though, just like she's silently begged him to. His finally glances upwards once the Mayor finishes the Treaty of Treason and tells the Tributes to shake hands. Briar knows Peeta is studying every angle of Katniss's face, sure this will be the last time he sees her in person.

_It doesn't have to be,_ Briar realizes at once. As soon as Effie leads the unlucky pair into the Justice Building, Briar breaks away from her group and pushes through the crowd until she's at her brother's side. He slumps against her when she throws her arms around her. His breathing is funny because he's still holding back tears.

"It's not over yet," she tells him, putting a hand on either side of his face and staring at him intently. "There's a few minutes still. Come on, we have to hurry."

He doesn't question her. She pulls on his hand as she darts them through the mass of children seeking out their siblings, their friends, their parents, all relieved that it's not them for one more year. But they have to hurry, they have to beat their own parents back to the bakery for this to work. Briar shoves the key from her pocket into the side door of the bakery and pushes the door open with a slam. Peeta trails behind her in a daze as she grabs a burlap sack and begins stuffing it with confections: yeasty dinner rolls, a day-old loaf of marble rye, cheese buns, then finally a couple of the honey-frosted cakes that are their own personal favorites. She tugs on his hand again and they flee for the door and take off in a run back towards the Justice Building.

A Peacekeeper blocks the door. Briar almost screeches as she says "We're here to say goodbye to one of the Tributes. Please, _please_ let us through."

The woman stands aside and lets the children through. Inside the dusty smelling hallway, Peeta finally makes her stop and shakes his head violently from side to side.

"No…no, I can't…"

"Yes, you can, Peeta. You _have_ to. This might be your last chance. Do you want her going to her grave not knowing how much you loved her? Do you?"

He gulps. She throws her arms around his neck.

"If she knows, maybe it'll give her something else worth fighting for," she whispers into his ear. She pulls away and pats his cheek. There's a hint of stubble under her palm, something new about him she hasn't noticed before. "Trust me, okay? We just have to hurry."

He nods and lets her take his hand again. They dash up a rickety flight of stairs to the reception hall where each Tribute waits behind a closed, guarded door to be seen by the people who come to wish them goodbye. The boy's family cowers against the wall, mother and sister sobbing, the father trying to hold them together to lead them home. Katniss's mother and wailing little sister are being led away by her tall, imposing hunting partner. They don't even notice Briar and Peeta standing there as they walk by them. Briar nudges her brother forward to speak to one of the Peacekeepers, trying to keep his nerve up by proxy.

One of the doors swings open. Madge Undersee steps out from it, her head high but her face sad. She notices the twins standing there and goes over to them quickly.

"Briar? What are you two doing…"

"Peeta's in love with Katniss, Madge. He always has been. He needs to tell her, right now, before it's too late. And you need to help me figure out how to get this to her family," she says, indicating the bundle in her arms. Peeta's face flushes a deep shade of crimson as Madge looks him over.

"Well…that's not really surprising. Hold on, I'll tell the Peacekeepers she has one more visitor," Madge says quickly before springing into action.

Peeta grabs his sister's arm and looks at her imploringly. "Why would…how could you…"

"Someone had to say it out loud finally, Peeta! You're gonna have a hard enough telling _her_ , I couldn't expect you'd actually be able to tell Madge, too!" Briar scolds.

"It's none of Madge's business!" Peeta whimpers.

"No, it's not. But she can help us. Just trust me, okay?" she tells him.

They look over to where the towheaded mayor's daughter is speaking animatedly with the Peacekeeper in front of Katniss's door. The man speaks into a chip on his wrist a moment later, then presses his finger into his ear.

"They're already being taken down to the station, Miss Undersee. Sorry. No more time now," the Peacekeeper says loud enough for Briar to hear. She feels her brother slump against her side, completely defeated.

"There must be something you can do, Darius…" Madge squeaks out. The man sighs and shakes his head. Briar puts her arm around her brother's waist, afraid that if she doesn't, he'll collapse.

Madge comes back over to him, her eyes brimming with tears as she looks at the twins. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Peeta."

"It's…it's okay…" he says in a daze, not able to form a more coherent thought than that as shock begins to overtake his brain once more.

"Give me the sack…I'll make sure Mrs. Everdeen gets it," Madge says and holds her arms out for the bundle under Briar's arm.

"Get some of it to the other family if you can, okay?" Briar says as she hands the sack over.

"Of course," Madge says. She steals one more sorrowful glance at Peeta before she heads down the stairs herself.

The twins walk home in a daze. When they reach the backyard behind their home, Briar feels a sob catch in her throat. "It's my fault…I should have made you stay and go inside while I ran home."

"No…s'not your…"

"BRIAR AND PEETA MELLARK, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" their mother's voice screeches from the back door of the kitchens, breaking them out of their stunned mood. They know this tone of voice well. Obediently they file into the kitchen, where they each take their slap across the face without complaint or raising their eyes above the floor.

"Which one of you little pigs stole our merchandise? Answer quickly!" Armarna demands.

"I did," the twins each say at once, and each get another slap for it.

"One of you is _lying._ You know what liars get in this house. Now answer me!"

"I did, Mother. It was me. Don't yell at Peeta, it was me," Briar says quickly and braces for another slap that doesn't come.

"Briar! Don't," Peeta beseeches her. Armarna grabs him by the ear and leads him to the stairs.

"Go to your room, you useless thing!" she commands him before she turns back to her daughter. "What did you do with that stock, girl?"

"I gave it to the Everdeens, ma'am. And I'm not sorry," Briar says, her voice steady. Then she closes her eyes, knowing the walloping she's about to take will likely be the worst one she'll ever receive in her life.

* * *

The cold tap water in the bathroom sink runs pink as Peeta helps Briar clean up her wounded face. The girl has stopped crying by now, but the pain in her jaw and along her left temple is more than she could ever have imagined it could be. Her ear is ringing and everything her brother whispers to her is muffled strangely. She can't hear her parents down the hallway, in a screaming match all of their own, not the way Peeta can. And Peeta just wishes they'd stop yelling already, so he can take his sister into their room and put her to bed without having to worry about running into their mother in the hallway.

Peeta rifles for a bottle of rubbing alcohol on the very top shelf. The Mellark children know that it's only to be used in the most dire of emergencies, but he's pretty sure that Briar's face not stopping bleeding for over an hour counts. He pours some onto the wash cloth he's carefully been blotting against her cheek. "Close your eyes and squeeze my hand. This'll hurt," he tells her.

A high pitched, pained squeal escapes Briar's throat as he presses the alcohol onto her battered skin. It's almost enough to make her start to cry again, but she holds out by pressing her fingernails into her twin's palm. When he pulls the washcloth away, he blows lightly onto the cuts to bring the stinging down. She manages a deep breath to calm herself before he presses it to her face again, wanting to make sure the cuts are as cleaned out as possible. When that small torture is done with, Peeta applies a bit of clean gauze to the wounds still weeping, then puts his arm around his sister's waist.

"Come on. We should go now before Father sends Mother downstairs to sleep," he says into her good ear. Her balance has been compromised since he'd found her, crumpled in a mangled heap in the middle of the staircase after Armarna's fists and rolling pin had stopped flying in the direction of her face.

"I'm so sleepy, Peet," she murmurs as he walks her to their room.

"I know. You can go to sleep in a minute, okay? Just hold on another second…" he says, kicking their door open as gently as he can. He helps her settle on the mattress and puts all his pillows under her head to keep her head aloft. He's not sure why he does this, but it seems like a good idea. He moves over to the window to throw it wide open, hoping an evening breeze will cool down the sweltering chamber. He watches as a few mockingjays flit from branch to branch in the tree outside their window and it's everything inside of him to not burst into tears looking at him.

"You're thinking about her," Briar says suddenly, causing her brother's head to whip around in surprise. "I can tell, you know."

"No I'm not. I'm thinking about how much I hate Mother right now. How much I wish I could push her into the oven and close the door and let her burn for what she did to you," Peeta lies. He supposes it's more of a half-lie, really. He _does_ hate their witch of a mother right now.

"Don't lie, Peet. It's okay to be sad. I think you should be sad," Briar tells him with a sigh.

"I don't want to talk about Katniss, okay? I just want to make sure you're better soon, that's all," he tells her.

"I'll be fine. It could have been worse. _You've_ taken worse," she reminds him.

"So why didn't you let me take it? You promised me. You promised me I could protect you from her, remember? When we were little?" he hisses, tears burning at his eyes. He hates how stubborn his sister had been this afternoon. If she'd just let him take the beating, she wouldn't look so…so…

"Sit down next to me, will you?" Briar says patiently.

"No. I'm too mad at you," Peeta replies.

"Just sit down and stop being a martyr, Peeta Mellark. Now," his sister commands. He reluctantly complies. She sits up from where she'd been propped against their pillows and hugs him tightly to her. His arms fight the embrace at first, but wrap around her shoulders eventually. His breath is shaky and uneven.

"It's okay. You can be sad. Don't be a _boy_ and hold it in. It's dumb to do that," she whispers into his ear.

"I can't," he chokes out.

"Why not?" she asks, pulling away slightly so she can look him in the eye.

"Because…then…then it's real," Peeta gasps out. Despite his words, he begins to cry. His sister holds onto him tight, and he's so grateful for her in this moment…

…Because now she's all he has left.

* * *

It's only the third day of the 70th Annual Hunger Games when Katniss Everdeen of District Twelve sneaks into the Career camp to steal their supplies, including a silver plated bow and arrow. She had managed to get away from the Cornucopia with a filleting knife, and slashes the throat of the girl from Two who clutches the set in her sleep. The girl's gurgled death cries hadn't woken the others, so one by one, Katniss picks off the three others: the girl from One and both from Four. She yanks the arrows from their corpses as the four cannons boom in the distance, and disappears back into the relative safe haven of the Arena, armed in the best way that could possible ensure her continued survival. She's one of the ten Tributes left. Her Games have only just begun.

And back in her home District, a blonde boy nestles against his twin sister in bed, praying to a deity he's not sure he really believes in but his father swears is real. He asks for the strength to protect his sister from the wrath of their mother, who was recently allowed back in their house after their father threw her out for what she'd done to Briar's face. He asks for Katniss's assured survival and return home so he doesn't have to live out his days as a bitter, solitary old man who could never love again after his childhood love was gone from the earth forever.

He ends his "prayer" when he realizes that wishing for the latter means wishing for the deaths of nine other children, children who'd done nothing wrong at all other than have unfortunate luck one day in their lives. What sort of deity would allow this to happen? His father had said the "God" of their families pre-Dark Days beliefs was benevolent and giving, solely responsible for every good and wonderful thing in the world. But if doing a good thing for Katniss Everdeen meant condemning 23 other people to certain doom, Peeta Mellark doesn't want to believe in this "God" after all. It's better, he decides, to believe that Katniss is responsible for her own actions. That there is nothing beyond the earth and the sky.

He tells his sister this when she rolls over a few minutes later and asks him what's keeping him awake at the current hour.

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard you say, Peeta," Briar whispers.

"You don't believe in that "God" Father told us about, do you?"

"I…I want to. I think I do," she says thoughtfully.

"Then why was Katniss Reaped?" he says accusatorially.

"Why was Orwell Roney Reaped and killed in the Bloodbath? Don't you suppose someone loved him? Don't you think that his parents, his sister will miss him just as much as Mrs. Everdeen and little Prim will miss Katniss if she doesn't come home?"

"That's different," Peeta says.

"Is it?" Briar retorts.

Peeta knows it isn't, not really. But Orwell Roney and any of the other 13 dead Tributes this year aren't _his Katniss_ , so it's not really important to him. Katniss and Briar—they're all that's important.

He doesn't like that Briar is disappointed in him, though. It keeps him up the rest of the night.

* * *

Briar should be watching the giant screens in the Town Square, watching the incredible moment when Katniss Everdeen becomes the newest Victor of the 70th Annual Hunger Games by shooting off the arrow that kills the approaching boy from District Six. She should cheer with the rest of the gathered crowd, cheer on the incredible feat the 14 year old Seam girl has accomplished, guaranteeing her safe return home from the snakelike hold of the Capitol to the waiting arms of her mother and beloved little sister. She should be happy that the children of her District will have enough to eat, that she won't be the spoiled Town girl who lives above the bakery who always has a full belly.

But she can't, not when her twin brother has suddenly disappeared from her side. She's lost him in the throng, the swelling mass of bodies closing in on her left and right, straining to get a better look at the screens displaying their heroic Victor girl in all her current glory.

"Peeta!" she cries out and begins struggling against the mass of people. She ducks under arms thrown up in victory, past huddled people on their hands and knees, praising the girl for all she's about to do and mean for their small District. She fights past them like a rabid dog because she has to find her brother. She has to make sure he knows that this is really happening. That he understands…

She finds him at the edge of the Meadow, under the tall shady tree where they'd spent their 12th birthday. His body is curled into a tight little ball. He's shaking so hard that a strong breeze might blow his body over the electrified fence that surrounds the District boundaries, where he'd be lost in the wind and the trees. She crouches next to him, places her hands on his shoulders, and lets him cry.

"I c-couldn't watch, Briar…p-please, just tell me…" he stammers out a moment later. Had he really not heard the cheer come up from the crowd? Had he really not heard the name Katniss on everyone's lips? How could that be?

_He doesn't want to hear it from anyone else but me,_ she realizes suddenly. Because no matter how much he loves her, how much his heart may belong to her, she's still the most important person in his life. They were born together and—God willing—they'll die together. Always together. Never alone. Her and her twin, her best friend in the world, who only allows his heart to really love one other person that now will be coming home to him, too.

Tears stream down her cheeks, but her smile is strong and broad. "She's alive, Peet. She won. She'll be home soon."

He dissolves into tears of joy. She cries with him, because she doesn't have to put him back together after all. He's complete. He'll be okay.

She envies him this feeling of wholeness. That part of her own heart that is reserved for a lover in the future is still vacant. She has her brother and he's the world to her, but—she wants that feeling of loving someone else. Of _being in love._ Just once, before she dies, she wants to be in love, too.

She'll have it someday, she's sure. She'll stop envying her brother this emotion, because after all he's done, after all he will do (and Briar is sure in this moment that if anyone can change the world, her twin brother is the one to do it), he deserves it. He deserves to be happy. To be in love.

She just hopes that somewhere along the line, Katniss Everdeen will find it in her own heart to love him back. Her best friend deserves nothing less.

* * *

Having never experienced a Victor's homecoming before, Briar and Peeta don't know what to expect. They're on the edge of the crown when Katniss arrives home on the Capitol train ten days after she's pulled triumphantly out of the Arena. Peeta strains his neck for a look at her, but Briar merely claps politely from her spot next to him. She's barely tall enough to see her tearful reunion with her own sister, the petite towhead that always presses her face up against the window of the bakery to look at the cakes, until Katniss pulls her along their way.

It is not lost on Briar that Katniss now has the money at her disposal to buy those cakes and elaborately frosted cookies that her twin slaves over at her sister's earliest whim. She's sure it will make Peeta happy to know that something he had a part in will make its way into their bellies.

Instead of heading back to the Seam on foot, a fancy Capitol car takes the Everdeen family up the opposite way on the road to the Victor's Village, where a beautifully prepared and maintained home awaits her arrival. Briar watches as her brother's eyes follow the car until it's a small speck in the horizon; then he turns to her and sighs contentedly.

"She survived," he murmurs.

"She did. You have a second chance, you know. To tell her. For real," she reminds him.

"I know it. I won't waste it."

"When will you do it?"

"Soon, I think. I'm tired of waiting."

"Good. Me too."

They walk home silently. As they pass by the town square, a gaggle of Town boys Peeta refers to as his "sort-of-friends" holler out to them.

"Hey, Mellark! You want in on the bet?" Padric Morton calls out.

"Your sister could be, too! That'd be a sight to see, eh boys?" Vinn Riley responds with a laugh.

Peeta and Briar's eyes narrow. "What bet?" Peeta asks finally.

"We're taking bets for how long it'll take that Victor girl to start getting bored and sleeping around," Padric replies.

"Bets going anywhere from one week to six months. Heard rumors it doesn't take longer than a month for some of those sluts from One to start screwing anything that moves after they get their crown," Ree Anders says before making an obscene gesture with his hips. Briar puts her hand delicately over her brother's wrist to keep him from totally flying off the handle. The way he's vibrating next to her, she knows that a very distinct possibility.

"You're all disgusting, you know," she sneers at them. A few of them pretend to look hurt. Vinn makes an even more obscene gesture with his two fingers and his mouth right in her face.

"How would you know what's disgusting and what isn't, Briar? You've got virgin written all over you. Could help you out with that, you know," he says, slinking up to her surreptitiously. He's maybe an inch away from touching her when Peeta's fist collides with his cheekbone.

"The hell, Mellark!?" Vinn spits at him.

"Leave. My sister. Alone," Peeta hisses and drags Briar away from the square. The boys call out jeers and curse words meant to insult their mother's marital status when they were both as they saunter off.

"I'll kill one of 'em next time they go near you, 'friend' or not," Peeta swears out as he and Briar ascend the stairs to their bedroom.

"Don't worry too much. I know right where to land my foot if they ever talk that way to me again," Briar says. She can tell something else is bothering her brother, though. Something that doesn't have nearly as much to do with her. "They're just being perverts, Peet. Katniss isn't the type to get bored and start hanging out at the slag heap. She's not interested in that sort of thing."

"Yeah. I know," Peeta says hollowly, changing into a shirt better suited for the afternoon of bakery work ahead of them.

"Then what's wrong?"

"I just…I didn't think about what telling her after she's been crowned a Victor would look like," her brother says quietly.

It takes Briar a moment, but she realizes exactly what he means and nods her head. "You tell her you've felt this way since we were kids. 'Cause that's the truth. She'll believe you."

"What if she doesn't? What if she thinks I'm trying to use her? I don't want her to think that about me," he replies.

"You're a better boy than Padric, Vinn, and Ree all put together, Peeta. Katniss'll see that. You make her understand that it's not just about the Games. It's her and it's you. You make her understand that, and maybe you'll get your happy ever after," she says, hoping her voice is comforting.

He shrugs before heading down the stairs to the kitchens. Briar wishes she had kicked Vinn in the nuts for what he's done to her brother.

_Now it's gonna take forever to convince him to pluck up that nerve again_ , she thinks with a groan.

* * *

No one sees the Everdeen women for several weeks. Kids who say they sneak out to the Victor's Village to spy on them and drunken Haymitch Abernathy start rumors of Katniss sleepwalking, of her spending the nights sitting on the highest bit of her rooftop with a bow and arrow in her hands, waiting for the ghost Tributes from her Games to come take their revenge on her family. These rumors bother Peeta more than they should, but just make Briar's eyes roll.

Eventually, she and her sister start making their way into Town to go shopping. They buy new shoes for the winter from Delly's father, fresh fruit at the farm stand, and expensive butcher meat from Rooba across the way. A few times little Primrose's face presses against their front display window like she used to, but Katniss still pulls her along her way. That is until one day when Briar is minding the till while her mother naps and the men of the family toil away in the blisteringly hot kitchens.

She watches as little Primrose talks animatedly to her sister, pointing to the stack of honey frosted cakes in the window and patting her belly excitedly. Briar hopes they don't catch her staring. Katniss tries to pull on her sister's hand, but the girl stamps her foot in frustration until she finally concedes. The bell above the door tinkles brightly. Briar tries to look impassive. She wonders what her excuse might be to trade posts with her brother. Not that Peeta would be willing to have the conversation he needs to have with her in front of her sister.

"Excuse us? Could we have three of the cakes in the front window, please?" little Primrose says politely to Briar. She returns her gentle smile and nods.

"Sure. Anything else?" Briar asks, directly the question more at Katniss than Prim.

Katniss gnaws on the side of her lip as if she's considering it. "Um…some regular bread. Whatever you might have left from yesterday is fine."

"Oh…my brother's about to bring out a dozen or so fresh loaves. They're really better when they're fresh out of the oven," Briar suggests. She looks over and sees Prim's eyes go wide with excitement.

"Oh, come on, Katniss! It's Mother's birthday dinner, we should get her the good stuff!" Prim squeaks.

Briar watches the slow breakdown of Katniss's steely exterior. It's gradual, but Prim's sweetness seems to break down her walls and make her more malleable, less of a stickler about what they might and might not be able to do. She wonders if she still isn't used to the idea that their family has money now—that would probably make sense why she wanted the bread from yesterday, since that's what she used to trade for.

"Fine. The fresh bread would be nice," Katniss says reluctantly. She taps her heavy boot idly on the ground and crosses her arms. Briar wraps the individual honey cakes delicately on a bit of parchment to keep them from getting the inside of the paper bag too sticky and quirks her head towards the kitchen door.

"Lemme just see if the loaves are cooled. Be right back, alright?" she says. Katniss and Prim nod at her curtly. She has to keep herself from running to grab her twin by the arm and forcing the just barely cool enough to touch trays into his strong hands before force-marching him up front. She can tell Peeta barely stops himself from dropping the entire tray when he sees Katniss's scowling face staring at him.

"Oh my goodness! That's the best smell in the whole world!" Prim squeaks.

Briar smiles at her gently. "It's not so great when that's all you ever smell. Do you need one loaf or two?"

Prim tugs on Katniss's shirt tail to get her attention. She isn't the only sister in the room to notice a pair of grey eyes locked onto blue ones.

"Um, two," Katniss says, snapping herself out of whatever moment she might have been swimming in. Briar sees Peeta shake himself slightly as he sets the tray down and wraps up two loaves like it's nothing out of the ordinary. Then his fingers shake ever so slightly as he extends his hand out to Katniss's to give her the paper sack. Briar watches closely, hoping she's not completely imagining the little zap of electricity that surges between the pair of them. But sure enough, their eyes lock onto one anothers's a moment past when the bread changes hands before Katniss again ducks her eyes reflexively to the floor.

"Um, how much?" she says quickly. Briar suppresses the urge to sigh at the two of them. She swears she sees a similar reaction on Prim's face.

"Eight silver for everything," Briar says automatically. Katniss hands her the coins from a small purse on her hip and tugs on Prim's braid behind her head.

"Come on, Little Duck," Katniss says to her sister. Prim flashes one last smile at the Mellark twins before the pair of them stride out the door.

"You are _impossible_ ," Briar huffs at her brother when the Everdeen girls are well out of sight.

"Huh?" Peeta says, like he's just been jerked out of a trance or something.

"Why didn't you say something?" Briar says, cuffing him on the shoulder lightly in frustration.

"She…she was looking at me…" Peeta stammers out.

"I _noticed_. Her sister _noticed_. So I ask again…why didn't you say anything to her?"

"Because…because…she's never looked at me before," Peeta says, the words ending with a sigh on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My most profound apologies for how long this chapter has taken. Between planning my wedding and starting a new WiP (All the Right Friends in All the Right Places), it's been hard to devote time to this little fic. I plan to see it through to it's end, however...which, for people who recall from Destroyed, will be next chapter. It'll likely be another long one, not to mention very sad, so it may be a while in coming. But Briar and Peeta's story will absolutely have it's ending.
> 
> Thanks for staying tuned. Much love to you folks.


	7. Age Fourteen

Briar rolls over on her back as the early morning light peeks into her and Peeta's open bedroom window. She swallows hard as a lump of dread settles into her throat. It's nearly impossible to swallow past it. She can't tell Peeta, though; he'd worry and he's already worried enough.

When she turns and looks at him, he's already staring back at her. Deep purple circles line the underside of his eyes. She thought he was over the nightmares. She thought she was as well. But these of late haven't felt so much like nightmares as they have premonitions.

"Did you sleep at all?" she asks her brother, already knowing the answer.

"You?" he responds.

"A little."

"Liar."

They huddle close together. Peeta gnaws on his lip. Briar tugs at her hair.

"It won't be either of us." Peeta's voice is anything but confident.

"I know. It's silly to dwell on it. It'll be over in a couple of hours and we'll be back home, making sure to stay off mother's nerves."

"Exactly."

And yet...yet they both know.

* * *

They do their work in the bakery quickly. A few traders come past and their father is extra generous with them. Briar knows that Peeta still longs for the days when Katniss was amongst them, even though she and her sister often come into the store-front to buy instead of trade. Their mother seldom allows any of the children other than Bannock up front, however, so it's not the same for the continually heartsick boy who's never quite plucked up his courage after that one day where he and Katniss shared a shy smile. Briar wonders what sort of miracle it'll finally take for Peeta to just bite the bullet already.

As they're tidying up the kitchen so that they can clean up for the Reaping, Briar's ears prick up at the sound of a commotion outside. She grabs slop for the pigs and slips out quickly to investigate. Ducking behind the pen, she sees none other than Katniss Everdeen talking quickly and emphatically with the tall trader boy she's pretty sure is called Hawthorne.

"Gale, it isn't like that, I swear!" she says, gesturing broadly with her hands.

"Oh really? What is it like, Catnip? What is it like to be the Capitol's lapdog? I'm all ears."

Katniss looks as though she could slap the boy. Her hands clench in fists and her nostrils flare. The boy looks equally indignant.

"I can take care of my own family, Katniss. I don't need your money or your charity," he sneers.

"It's not charity! Listen to me, why don't you? I just want to make sure..."

"I'm done listening. I don't even know you anymore, Katniss. And I'm not exactly sure I want to."

Katniss gapes at the boy for a second before she kneels down, picks up a fistful of dirt, and flings it in his face. The boy sputters, but doesn't retaliate.

"You're an ass." Her tone is steady, if pained; she turns on her toe a minute later and stamps off. The boy brushes off his shirt quickly before retreating in the opposite direction.

Briar crawls out of her hiding place and hurries back into the house. She wants to tell Peeta what she just saw, but she knows it isn't her place. But she does know that any competition for Katniss Everdeen's affections has just been eliminated. By pride, vanity, whatever: her brother finally has the perfect moment to attempt to fight his way into her heart.

* * *

Peeta wears his typical baby blue button down. Their mother starched it for him, so it lays rough and scratchy against his skin. Briar's dress falls to her knees, but the inches in height she's gained in the year since she last wore the dress cause her to self-consciously tug the hem downwards. Peeta smoothes his curls back with the hair wax, and Briar uses a little to do the same for the fly-aways for her unruly blonde tresses. When the bell chimes in the town square, they share a shaky breath before departing hand-in-hand from their bedroom. Briar lingers in the doorway, looking back at the lumpy pair of mattresses, the tiny chest of drawers, the patchy-thin curtains that billow slightly in the hot summer breeze. It's now impossible to swallow over the lump in her throat.

Peeta tugs on her hand. "What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," she chokes. "I just…if this is the last time I see our room, I want to—"

Her cups his palm roughly over her mouth and his eyes glint with pain. "Don't even joke about that," he hisses at her.

"Peet, I just—"

"No! Don't talk like that. We promised we wouldn't talk like that!" he says again before tugging on her hand. She nods slowly, and murmurs an apology under her breath.

They walk with Rye to the square, all three in agitated silence. They're separated after check-in, but their fingers are slow to untangle, largely because Briar's grip is iron-strong. Peeta finally has to snatch his hand away and fold his twin carefully in his arms.

"I'll see you after, Briar, okay?"

She can't speak so she nods lamely and falls into formation with the other 15 year-old girls. Delly and Madge stand close by, but Briar doesn't want the comfort of her friends today. Not when the sense of dread that pools in her belly is too raw, too certain, too much of everything.

_I know_ , she repeats again and again in her head.  _I know. I know. This is it. This is my year to die._

Her fear actually quells when Effie Trinket pulls the slip of paper bearing her name from the Reaping Bowl. She's already stepping forward when the Capitolite's painted lips part to speak her name. She doesn't resist the firm grasp of the Peacekeeper's hands on her arms as they escort her to the stage. She knows the pained yelp that comes from the boys' side of the crowd is her brother, but she can't look back and see him, lest she lose her nerve. Instead, her eyes train on Katniss Everdeen, sitting calmly between Mayor Undersee and Haymitch Abernathy on the stage. She tries to read the girl's mind, but comes up with nothing. Still, the steely gaze of Katniss's eyes meeting hers calms her inexplicably.

_Katniss owes Peeta. This is my year to die—but any fighting chance I might have lies entirely with her._

It is in that moment that Briar Mellark decides to implicitly trust Katniss Everdeen, no matter what she might say or do. She decides to think like Katniss, pretend to be as skilled as Katniss, emulate her in every way. She begins immediately when she stands on stage with Yann Pullmant, the unfortunate Seam boy whose name is drawn just moments after she climbs the stairs to the stage; subconsciously, she knows that this time last year, Katniss did not seek out the eyes of her family. So as much as it pains her to do so, she looks straight ahead, still not allowing herself to find Peeta in the crowd. She will have a hard enough time keeping it together when Peeta comes to say goodbye.

_No matter what,_  Briar thinks _, I will be strong. I will be myself. My best friend will be proud of me. And if it's possible at all, I'll return to him._

She casts a quick glance at Katniss before adding to the end of her thought:  _How else will I ever convince him to finally tell her how he feels?_

She remains stoic until she's on the train, her brother's muffled final words of "I love you, too, Briar!" echoing in her ears as she heaves the contents of her stomach into the fine Capitol toilet.

* * *

Katniss inspires Haymitch Abernathy to care about she and Yann, even if it is the ultimate bare minimum of concern that the old drunk holds for any given Tribute other than Katniss. As he tips a flask of white liquor into his tea cup, he imparts the best wisdom that he can possibly be expected to the pair of them.

"Stay alive," the old man says before swilling back the alcohol and belching loudly. Effie Trinket throws him a look of utter contempt and disgust, and Katniss slams her cutlery down on the table before storming off through the hydraulic door towards their sleeping cabins. After being so sick in her own compartment, Briar is barely able to palate more than a few sips of tea and a nibble of a sandwich, unlike Yann, who eats as though he's never seen food before. Briar dabs at her mouth gingerly with the corner of a napkin and smiles politely at Effie.

"May I be excused, Ms. Trinket? I'm not terribly hungry," she says in the voice she reserves for speaking with her mother when the woman is in a foul mood.

"Of course, dear. Thank you for asking," Effie says. Haymitch guffaws at Briar, as though the girl's manners are the funniest thing he's ever seen in his life. Briar follows after Katniss towards the sleeping cabins, but doesn't linger in the car before heading through another set of hydraulic doors, and another after that. She's not sure why she's so certain that the girl continued on, but she is rewarded for her curiosity when she finally stops at the very last train car, one with wide windows and plush couches. Katniss is perched on the one that stretches around the back of the car, her knees pulled up to her chest and her neck craned to look out the back as the train whips through the Panem countryside.

Briar isn't sure exactly what to say. She knows from Effie that as a Tribute, she's welcome to occupy any space on the train she so desires. Maybe this is a spot that Katniss likes to have reserved for herself, but Briar finds it hard to care at this exact moment. She plops down on the couch nearby, just so that she's within Katniss's peripheral vision, and folds her hands in her lap. Katniss's eyes dart over to her quickly, taking her in before training back on the view. Briar acknowledges this only briefly before letting it go entirely—she's not offended.

Their silence is companionable and calm, like two teenage girls might fall into if one of them wasn't being whisked off to her almost certain death, while the other stands idly by to do little more than watch. The air between them is pregnant with this thought, as well as the one that trills through Briar's mind the longer and longer they sit there: _You could tell her. You could tell her for him, and then at least he won't be all alone when you die._

"It shouldn't have been you," Katniss says finally, her voice crackly and pained.

"It shouldn't have been you last year, either. Nothing we can do about it, though," Briar replies calmly.

"Don't say it like that," Katniss snaps at her, her feet finding the floor and her body bending forward to rest her elbows on her knees. Her grey eyes bore into Briar. "You make it sound like you've already given up."

"I'm nothing special, Katniss," Briar replies. "I don't want to die, but—I'm nothing special."

"Neither am I," Katniss says, even though she and Briar both know it's a bold-faced lie.

"I can't shoot. I can't throw knives. I can throw a sack of flour over my head, but it's not like I'm gonna kill anyone with a sack of flour in the Arena," Briar says sadly.

"We'll figure out what your skill is. You're strong, I can see it in you. We can figure out how to give you a fighting chance, I know it," Katniss states matter-of-factly.

"Probably be better if I were a boy. I won't be stronger than the Careers, I'm sure of it."

"They're arrogant. They can be manipulated. Just…just don't talk like that, alright? You can't give up already. That's what they  _want_  you to do. Don't give them the fucking satisfaction."

Briar is taken aback at the tenacity of Katniss's words, particularly when she lets a foul word fly so easily from her lips. But something about Katniss Everdeen's fierceness, her insistence, her incredible poise gives Briar a spark of hope.

"I won't," Briar agrees with a nod. And she means it, too.

* * *

Over the next several days, Briar and Katniss develop a shorthand of sorts—Katniss doesn't have to be eloquent or even specific when she speaks for Briar to know exactly what she means or wants her to do. She listens between the lines, as she once heard a teacher say, and she finds it's surprisingly easy to get into Katniss's head. Maybe it's the circumstances, or the fact that Katniss is taking such a keen interest in keeping Briar alive while more or less ignoring her male counterpart, Yann. Maybe it's just because they're both 15 year-old girls, but Briar doesn't get why it took her brother such a painfully long time to figure the girl out—she's not nearly as complicated as Peeta likes to think she is

But then again, Peeta has never been put into a situation like this one. Survival is second-nature to Katniss. It's new territory to Briar. But Briar is a fast learner. She has to be if she ever wants to see Peeta again.

There is a spot on the roof above the lavish Capitol apartment they inhabit that provides a keen view of the city. The wind is warm against Briar's face as she perches on the ledge, allowing herself the tiniest bit of pleasure at drinking in the sights of the city. The bright lights almost completely mute out the stars and moon in the sky in a way they never do back home in Twelve. She can pinpoint a few of them, however, and the thin slip of the crescent shaped moon—she wonders if Peeta is back home looking at it, too.

Briar has her legs pulled up to her chest, allowing her tired eyes drink in the sights as she tries not to think too pensively about the scoring sessions the next day. She feels entirely ordinary in the field of Tributes, and that isn't exactly a positive these days. She supposes she might pull out as much as a 4 or a 5 in training, but anything more than that would be a long shot.

"How'd you find this place?" a voice behind her asks. She startles, but smiles a little when she spies Katniss.

"I couldn't sleep, so I went wandering. Am I not supposed to be up here?" Briar replies.

"You can do whatever you'd like," Katniss says, taking the spot next to her, pulling her own knees up and propping her chin on them.

"Short of going home," Briar says wistfully.

"You'll—you'll technically go home one way or another." The words are icy, but aren't meant to be hurtful, so Briar doesn't take them that way. She shrugs and continues to gaze at the intricate buildings, the fluffy trees and shrubs in their bizarre colors, and the strange, ethereal music that doesn't seem to have an actual source.

"Look, don't be nervous about tomorrow. Effie likes to talk up the training scores like they're the biggest deal in the world, but it's just one factor. You're better off trying to impress people in the interviews," Katniss says after a pregnant silence between the pair.

"Sure. I could probably do that better. I don't mind talking to people," Briar says. The irony, the girl supposes, is that Peeta is the real charmer with words. Briar is memorable with a turn of a phrase; her twin is unforgettable. Not that Katniss would have any way of knowing that.

"Just do whatever you felt most comfortable with. Even if it's setting a campfire or tying a knot," Katniss concludes.

"Haymitch said to make them remember us. How'd you make them remember you?"

For a split second, a wicked smile crosses Katniss's face before her usual unflappable expression takes over.

"I, uh…I shot an arrow at them," she admits. Briar's eyes go wide. "Not at them at them; just enough to get their attention. By the time they get to the later Districts, they're more interested in booze and whatever dessert is being brought out for them. I just wanted to get their attention. I figured they owed me that much."

Briar gulps but nods her head. "I can't shoot worth beans. I doubt that'll work for me."

"What can you do?"

"I'm good with fires. But setting one in the Arena would be a pretty bad idea, wouldn't it?"

Katniss shrugs. "There will be plenty there for kindling or whatever. Maybe if you set enough things on fire, they'll smell the smoke and pay attention for a minute or two."

Briar isn't entirely sure why she didn't think of that before. In retrospect, it seems so simple—she can spark a small blaze out of almost anything. It was the first thing she learned to do in the kitchens other than mixing water into flour and kneading it into dough. It should have been the first thing she'd thought of.

"Thanks, Katniss," she says, pivoting off the ledge and padding back towards the stairwell door.

"Briar?" Katniss calls after her. The blonde girl spins around and looks at her. Katniss seems to be mulling over something in her head for the way she's gnawing at the corner of her mouth and twirling the end of her braid between her fingers. "You know Madge Undersee, right?"

"Yeah, she's in all our—mine and my brother's—classes at school. I mean, we're friendly, I guess, but we aren't really friends…"

"She, um…she said something to me a few months ago and…" Katniss cuts herself off and shakes her head. "Never mind. You should go get some sleep. Big, big, big day tomorrow, you know?"

It's almost enough to make Briar smile at the thought of Katniss mocking Effie. But an overwhelming sense of dread and sadness overtakes her all of a sudden, and she has to rush through the door, down the stairs, and into her bedroom before Katniss can see her begin to cry.

Inexplicably she misses Peeta more in this instant than she has over the last several days. Still, she curls into a ball on the plush Capitol mattress and presses her face into the pillows to muffle her sobs as she cries and misses him.

She isn't sure if he's looking at the same stars she is in the sky. But she's almost certain he's crying just as she is.

* * *

It's a controlled burn. That what she thinks of it as, anyway.

When she steps in front of the Gamemakers, she sees immediately that Katniss was correct—they aren't paying any attention to her whatsoever. She supposes it doesn't matter too much right at the beginning. She hauls over a few practice dummies, their stuffing peeking out of sword gashes and knife cuts, and lines them all up in a row. She grabs paint from the camouflage station and haphazardly makes a few marks on the chests of the faux-corpses. 1. 2. 5. 8.

And then she gathers her kindling. With her skilled, practiced, and virtually inflammable fingers wrought by over a decade of working with hot dough and fiery coals, a spark is all it takes to coax a small ember, and from there, a decent sized flame. She holds the burning tinder carefully in her hands as she makes her way to the first dummy. The exposed polyester stuffing ignites easily, and flames lap at the blank face of the thing within a few minutes. The scent of scorching fabric and billowy grey smoke begin to get the attention of the Gamemakers just a scant second later. When, and only when, Briar knows they're all looking at her, does she plant her foot firmly in the belly of the smoldering mannequin, sending it toppling backwards into its stuffed brethren.

It's like Bannock's game of dominoes that he would never let her and Peeta play with. The burning pillar marked with a 1 collides headlong with the one marked 2, which sends the one marked 5 toppling into the last one marked 8. It's with a sick sense of vengeance that Briar had decided on those four numbers—all of those belonging to male Tributes who'd been particularly intimidating in the early days of training. She couldn't pretend to their faces to not be concerned about them and had tried to keep her head down and prove unremarkable to them for as long as possible—as if she wasn't about to face them head-on in the Arena in only a couple of days. But here, in front of these sadistic Capitolites, who derive so much pleasure and enjoyment from watching teenagers murder one another, Briar can pretend she is fearless. They don't have to know she's a sheltered, decently-fed girl from the coal District, who only has ever had to worry about minor slag burns from the ovens as opposed to being blown to smithereens in the deep, dark mines.

Several of the Gamemakers gasp, and one snaps his fingers, instantly summoning an Avox with a bucket of water. He douses her flames quickly, but she looks up at them defiantly all the same.

"You are excused, Miss Mellark," the Gamemaker sneers. She curtsies quickly (her mother would never have her forgo manners entirely, despite the brashness of her actions just now) and turns on her heel towards the elevator. As it steadily climbs the twelve stories to the penthouse, adrenaline gives way to nerves and the feeling that she did something so cataclysmically stupid that there's no possible way to redeem herself. She hides in her bedroom until dinner, but catches Katniss in the hallway before they sit down at the formal table with Yann, Haymitch, Cinna, Portia, and Effie, and confesses what she's done.

"I don't know what came over me, Katniss, but I just…I wanted to show them they don't own me," she stammers. Katniss's scowl disappears again quickly as a smile overtakes her lips.

"Nice shooting, sweetheart," the girl says before she turns with a whip of her long dark braid. Briar bats her eyelashes in confusion.

Only later, when her training score of 8 eclipses Yann's 6 does Briar calm a little. Her score is the highest of the girls not belonging to a Career District, a feat that Effie swoons over, her earlier panic that Briar's horrendous manners and destructive attitude surely sentenced her to the Gamemaker's ire well and truly gone. After Yann heads off to his bedroom, Haymitch winks at her.

"Nice shooting, sweetheart," the old drunk says before he stumbles to his own quarters, a bottle of white liquor clutched in his hand. Briar tries to steal a look at Katniss to figure out what on earth the two Mentors are saying, but the girl is gone.

She feels all the more alone.

* * *

After her interview, after saying goodbye to Effie and Haymitch and Katniss, Briar was meant to go straight to bed. But how anyone could sleep the night before they know they might die seems obscene to her. She wraps herself up in a fluffy dressing gown and wanders through the darkened apartment until she finds herself heading for the roof again.

The entire Capitol is a sort of party, from the noises, the bright lights, and the incredibly odd costumes she can see from her chosen perch. She wonders what Peeta might think if he were here to see all this with her. It's a half-hearted wish at best, because while she misses him, she doesn't want him anywhere near this place. She pretends a part of her brain belongs to him for a minute, and tries to decide what he'd say if he was looking at the same view she is.

"Are they even costumes, or is that just how they dress normally?" she says to herself, deciding that's exactly what her brother would think.

"It's just how they dress," the answer comes, and Briar nearly falls off the roof. She hadn't heard Katniss come up.

"Can't sleep?" the other girl presses, taking a seat on the ledge nearby. Briar shakes her head. "No one can. Unless they give you… never mind. You ought to try to rest a little, at least. Or have them send some food to your room. And lots of water."

"I don't think I could eat anything," Briar says.

"No, I wouldn't imagine you could. You should still try. I… I can't make any promises about when you'll eat or have water next. Once you're in there—well, there's only so much Haymitch and I can do."

"I can't imagine I'll get many sponsors, if I get any at all. It's okay. I know you'll do your best if you can. And if you can't… Well, I'll do what I have to, I guess."

"I will try. Haymitch and I… We'll do everything we can."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Katniss." Briar doesn't mean for it to sound cold. But it's probably better if she doesn't get her hopes up. The odds will never be in her favor.

"I brought you something," Katniss says by way of reply. She holds out her hand and Briar gasps when she sees what's in it. "It brought me luck, or my sister likes to say it did. If you'd like to wear it, you're welcome to it."

Briar hasn't given much thought to a district token; nothing seemed important enough for her to take in. But this... this she'd be very proud to wear.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"Do you want to know how I did it?" Katniss is speaking so softly, Briar isn't sure she really heard anything. "How I really managed to survive?"

Briar shrugs. She watched the Games. She's eaten the squirrels Katniss has shot through the eye. Nothing Katniss will say could surprise her.

"When I was in there, I just… I thought about my sister. I didn't want her to watch me die. I knew that even if my mother had to hide her face, she'd see it one way or another, and Prim—Prim couldn't handle that. So I did what I had to do to survive. So I could see Prim again. And it… It was awful."

"But you saw her again."

"I did. 23 other people can't say the same thing, though."

Briar's throat closes. If this was meant to inspire her, give her courage, it's failed rather miserably.

"You can't be nice and be a Victor, Briar. You have to be cruel. You can't think like they're people when you're in there. That part comes later."

"I don't know if I want that part at all," Briar says truthfully.

"But you want to see your brother again, right? Er… brothers?"

A smile plays at Briar's mouth. "I want to see Peeta again. Mostly just so that I know he's happy. He deserves to be happy."

Katniss seems like she doesn't know what to say, so she doesn't say anything for a long, long time.

"If you don't survive… Is there anything you'd like me to tell him? Your brother… Peeta?"

It makes her happy to hear Peeta's name on Katniss's lips. She smiles in spite of the situation not being the sort of one that should make someone smile.

"If he's ever brave enough… 'Yes'."

"What is it?" Katniss asks. She doesn't understand what Briar means, and without giving away everything, Briar can't clarify.

"Just that. Just that, Katniss. I'm going to try to go to sleep now."

She leaves the other girl to wonder. All these years she's teased Peeta about not manning up and telling her how he feels, she never realized that words about love can be the hardest words you'll ever say.

She doesn't sleep, but she sips water all night long, even when her insides feel like she can't hold anymore without bursting. She still can't eat. But just in case she never sees water again, she tells herself to keep sipping while she still can.

Maybe dying of thirst wouldn't be the worst way to go.

She never suspects until it's all too too late that her Arena is not the sort of Arena for a girl who starts fires.

* * *

She awakens with a gasp. Her chest heaves, her lungs are desperate for air, but it seems like she can't gulp it down quickly enough. Try as she might, it seems like a proper breath of air is impossible.

She rubs her eyes and looks around. Her and Peeta's bedroom is exactly the same as it always has been. The curtains billow softly from the hot breeze that creeps in the cracked window. The half-moon shines brightly on her pillow. Unlike her own struggle for a lungful of oxygen, Peeta is breathing deeply right beside her. He's curled up into a tight ball, and every so often she hears him whimper or moan. She wonders if he's having a bad dream.

_A bad dream—that's all this was_ , she thinks. Her name being called by Effie Trinket. The train. The Capitol. Katniss. The training center. The hovercraft. The Arena. The dam. It was all just a terrible dream.

She wraps her arms around her legs and squeezes her arms tightly with her fingers. It doesn't dawn on her until she squeezes again that she can't feel anything. It's like her hands aren't touching her skin. It's like she doesn't have skin.

"Briar!" Peeta awakens with a start, and begins to shake violently.

"Peeta? Peeta, what's wrong? What did you dream about?"

She isn't used to the sight of him weeping. He's the strong one—he's not supposed to cry. But he curls in on himself tightly, his fingers knotted in his hair as he begins to rock himself back and forth. "B-Briar…"

"Peeta! Peeta, what's wrong? Peeta, answer me!"

She reaches for him. Her fingers press up against his skin, but she can't feel it. She can see from the way his pajamas cling to him that he's sweating, so he ought to be warm or clammy to the touch. But she can't feel anything.

"Peeta?" she tries again. He doesn't look up at her. "Peeta!" she screams it directly into his ear. He's unmoved. His weeping continues until he's hiccuping and gasping for air. He's not responding to her, though, almost like… Almost like…

"No," she gasps. She gets to her feet—she can't feel those either, can't feel the cool wood under her toes even though her feet are right there on the floor—and goes to the dresser. The mirror sitting on top is cracked, but it still shows a reflection just fine.

Or it would, if there was one to see.

"No!" she cries. "No, I… Peeta! Peeta, please look up. Please look up and see me, please!"

Peeta wails harder. She thinks he tries to say her name again, but he's so muffled, so choked up that she can't hear anything clearly.

She paws at him, desperate to feel his warmth, his nearness, anything about him that feels real. He's really there. She's really there. But wherever there is for him, and wherever there is for her, it's not the same. That dawns on her very, very slowly.

Pops of things come back to her. The countdown at the Cornucopia. Hiding in the bushes when the Career pack went by. Seeing the boy from District Eight decapitate the boy from Four and his partner running away, screaming with her hands over her ears. A package of peanuts and a little bit of water. A warm blanket. The moon, hung high in the sky, that couldn't possibly be the same moon she's looking at through her bedroom window now. The sickening crash and deafening rush of water as the dam broke. And then blackness, so much of it until she woke up here.

She woke up. But she didn't wake up alive.

"I'm… I'm dead," she says. She wants to cry like she's watching her brother do—how can he still have tears left? How can he keep going without hyperventilating and running out of breath?—but it dawns on her that dead people must not be able to cry.

She can feel rage, white-hot and all-encompassing, bubbling up in her gut. She can feel sorrow as she watches her twin cry himself out and fall back against his pillow, fisting hers and tucking it against his chest like he's reaching out for her. But it becomes patently clear that she can't feel anything else, and won't feel anything else, ever again.

She's dead. And apparently, dead people have to abide by a different set of rules.

* * *

When she was alive, she'd never given much thought to an afterlife. Briar just figured that when you died, everything ended. Now that she knows she's wrong, she's not entirely sure what to do with herself.

She doesn't leave the bedroom. When she tries to follow Peeta into the living area or kitchens, it's as though she walks backwards through the door instead of forwards. She gets used to the feeling of being stuck, trapped, because she decides she doesn't really have anywhere to be anyway. At least the bedroom feels safe and warm (even though temperature doesn't really exist for her any longer) and sometimes, Peeta is there.

She watches him sleep because she has nothing else better to do. His dreams are bad; he tosses and turns like a fretful infant and mutters in his unconsciousness. She speaks to him, softly at first, then tries screaming at him so he hears. That's the worst part of being dead and stuck, she decides: no one can hear you. No one knows you're there. She thought that perhaps the bond she and Peeta shared would make her death different, but it didn't.

Not until later.

The winter after her Games is especially bitter, enough that even she knows how chilly that bedroom is. Peeta has gone to bed with his clothes still on and wrapped himself in both of their woolen blankets. The window is tightly shut against the howling wind. There will be so much snow on the ground in the morning that both the schools and the mines will be closed. Briar watches her brother shiver, sees his breath puff from his lips, and wonders how other children in houses less insulated will even survive the night.

He whimpers, his mouth forming her name. Their brothers have yelled at Peeta for waking them when he screams in the night, though even they know he can't help it. Briar can sense that he is about to be rocked by one of those terrible dreams, and she can't stomach it. She has to do something to help him.

She balls her first and drops it with a thud on his pillow. "It's alright, Peet," she says roughly. "You're okay. I'm... Well, they can't hurt me now, can they?"

She doesn't know what makes her say it, think it. The words simply come to her.

"You aren't alone," she tells him. "We have each other; always have, always will."

He sucks in a deep breath—sturdy and unwavering—and a ghost of a smile crosses his lips. "I 'member, Briar," he mutters. The nightmare passes. His dreams become sweet, or perhaps cease entirely. If Briar's cheeks could hurt from how she smiles, she knows they would.

"You still have me, Peeta. I'm still here."

* * *

She watches as he begins to draw again. She watches as he remembers how to smile and laugh, though they don't come as often as they once did. She helps him through the nights and tries to talk to him when he's awake, too, but that never quite works. She watches from the window on the day he's running an errand for their father and he nearly collides head long with Katniss Everdeen. Katniss scurries across the street, hiding her face from him. Briar supposes that Katniss must think Peeta hates her, but Briar knows nothing could be further from the truth.

And later, as her living twin sleeps, Briar whispers to him all the ways she can think of to win Katniss's heart. Some are outlandish and might never work. Some are simple and sweet. She comes up with as many as she can, because at the end of it all, she wants her brother to be happy.

She wants her brother to really live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This long overdue conclusion to this story is dedicated with my love and appreciation to my amazing friend and beta, sohypothetically... She knows why. Thanks are not enough to her, and also to honeylime for betaing this chapter for me. You ladies rock my world.
> 
> Destroyed (my very first WiP and this story's companion) is currently undergoing an editing and partial rewriting experiment. It will be cross-posted (finally) here beginning this week, continuing hopefully every few weeks, until it's once again complete.
> 
> To those who stuck through this story and Destroyed - well, all I can say is a hearty 'thank you'. You're terrific.


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